GEORGE    MEREDITH 


TO 

ANY  WHO  DESIRE  TO  JOIN 
"THAT  ACUTE  AND  HONOURABLE 
MINORITY  WHICH  CONSENTS  TO  BE 
THWACKED  WITH  APHORISMS  AND 
SENTENCES  AND  A  FANTASTIC 
DELIVERY  OF  THE  VERITIES." 


GEORGE  MEREDITH 

Introduction  to  his  Novels 


JAMES   MOFFATT 


HODDER   AND   STOUGHTON 
NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 


Printed  at  The  Edinburgh  Frew 
Sixty-eight  Old  Bailey 
B.C. 


Contents 

P«e 

PREFACE 

INTRODUCTION      .           ,          •          *  ,        •  1 

THE  SHAVING  OF  SHAGPAT             .           .  67 

FARINA           .          -V        '           •           .           .  83 

THE  ORDEAL  OF  RICHARD  FEVEREL      .  91 
EVAN  HARRINGTON      .           .           .           .117 

EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND  (SANDRA  BELLONI)  137 

RHODA  FLEMING 155 

VITTORIA     -.           .           .           .     ,      »          .  171 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  HARRY  RICHMOND  191 


Page 

BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER  .  .  .209 


THE   HOUSE  ON  THE  BEACH  .  .    231 

THE    CASE    OF     GENERAL     OPLE     AND 

LADY  CAMPER      .  /         .  .    239 

THE  TALE    OF  CHLOE  .  .  ;  .247 

THE  EGOIST 255 

THE  TRAGIC  COMEDIANS        .  .  .275 

DIANA  OF  THE  CROSSWAYS .  .    •       .289 

ONE  OF  OUR  CONQUERORS  .  .>  .     309 

LORD  ORMONT  AND  HIS  AMINTA .  .    335 

THE  AMAZING  MARRIAGE      .  .  .353 

INDEX 401 

ri 


Introduction. 

ABOUT  the  middle  of  last  century  a 
shrewd  American  sat  down  to  record 
some  impressions  of  our  English  character 
which  he  had  received  during  a  recent 
visit  to  this  island.  He  closed  his  chapter 
upon  literature  with  the  comfortable  reflec- 
tion that  after  all  some  retrieving  power  lay 
in  the  English  race,  which  would  eventually 
produce  a  recoil  from  the  limitations  of 
"a  self-conceited,  modish  life,  clinging  to 
a  corporeal  civilization,"  beefy,  mechanical, 
and  averse  to  ideas.  Like  a  genuine 
Platonist,  Emerson  recollected  that  there 
were  two  nations  in  England  :  not  the  Nor- 
mans and  the  Saxons,  not  Gelt  and  Goth,  not 
the  rich  and  the  poor,  but  "the  perceptive 
class  and  the  practical  finality  class."  There 
was  the  nation  of  genius,  perhaps  amounting 
to  a  dozen  souls,  and  there  was  the  nation  of 
animal  force,  which  numbered  some  twenty 


George  Meredith 

millions.  It  seemed  to  him  that  these  differ- 
ent complexions  or  types  of  nature  must  re- 
act on  one  another.  To  their  interchange  and 
counterpoise  he  considered  that  the  English 
character  owed  a  large  measure  of  its  virility. 
Only  three  years  or  so  after  the  idealist  of 
Concord  had  published  his  survey,  the  smaller 
of  these  nations  was  to  receive  at  least  one 
notable  recruit  in  the  person  of  a  novelist 
who  was  not  afraid  to  state  that  he  specially 
wanted  "the  practical  Englishman  to  settle 
his  muzzle  in  a  nosebag  of  ideas."  The  year 
1859  may  be  taken,  for  the  sake  of  conven- 
ience, as  one  of  the  landmarks  in  the  English 
literature  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Before 
it  closed,  Leigh  Hunt,  de  Quincey,  Hallam 
and  Macaulay  passed  away,  while  Thackeray 
and  Dickens  gave  to  the  world  their  evening 
gifts  in  "The  Virginians"  and  "A  Tale  of 
Two  Cities."  Carlyle's  work  lay  almost  en- 
tirely behind  him.  New  lights  were  rising. 
"The  Idylls  of  the  King,"  Fitzgerald's 
"Omar  Khayyam,"  Mill's  essay  on  Liberty, 
"The  Origin  of  Species,"  and  "Adam 
Bede,"  all  published  in  1859,  usher  in  the  later 
period  of  Victorian  literature.  Freeman  and 
2 


Introduction 

Froude,  Huxley  and  Tyndall,  were  just  enter- 
ing the  arena,  while  Spencer  was  presently 
to  follow  them.  "The  Defence  of  Guene- 
vere"  had  recently  caught  the  attention  of 
the  cultured,  and  in  the  following  year  Swin- 
burne was  to  woo  deaf  ears  with  "The 
Queen  Mother"  and  "Rosamund."  "Adam 
Bede  "  took  the  wind  out  of  the  sails  of  most 
contemporary  fiction  upon  the  serious  tack, 
however,  and  among  that  becalmed  class 
must  be  reckoned  a  prose  romance  entitled 
"The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel."  It  was 
written  by  a  young  Londoner,  hitherto  known 
for  the  most  part  as  the  author  of  some  rather 
unsuccessful  verse  and  of  two  fantastic 
stories  whose  merit  and  promise  had  been 
generously  recognised  by  the  discerning  few, 
and  cordially  reviewed — it  is  a  pleasure  to  re- 
call— by  George  Eliot  herself,  no  fewer  than 
three  times. 

It  would  be  idle  and  impertinent  to  raise 
the  veil  which  Meredith's  reticence  and 
modesty  have  drawn  over  his  career.  His 
life  is  in  his  books,  though  few  writers  have 
published  perhaps  so  much  and  left  their  per- 
sonalities so  deeply  in  the  shadow.  Such 
3 


George  Meredith 

items  of  his  biography  as  are  relevant  to  this 
sketch  can  be  stated  very  briefly.  He  was 
born  in  Hampshire,  on  the  12th  of  February, 
in  the  same  year  as  Ibsen  and  Tolstoy,  1828, 
with  the  blood  of  working-people  in  his  veins. 
His  father  was  of  Welsh  extraction,  his  mother 
of  Irish.  After  they  separated  he  was 
educated  in  Germany,  and  it  is  superfluous 
to  point  out  the  significance  of  this  for  his 
intellectual  development.  Returning  to  this 
country  in  his  sixteenth  year,  he  was  appren- 
ticed unwillingly  to  the  study  of  law,  from 
which,  like  Dickens,  he  soon  rolled  off"  into 
literature  and  journalism,  acting,  for  example, 
as  the  war-correspondent  of  the  Morning  Post 
in  Italy  during  1866.  He  first  tried  verse, 
in  a  simple,  lyric  vein.  His  later  poetry 
became  a  more  characteristic  medium  of 
utterance,  but  he  is  never  pensive,  or  blithe, 
or  stately  for  long,  and,  as  an  acute  re- 
viewer once  pointed  out,  verse  with  him 
virtually  tends  to  become  more  and  more  "  a 
kind  of  imaginative  logic,  a  reasoning  in  pic- 
tures." Meredith  ultimately  became  a  poet 
of  almost  the  first  rank,  within  certain  limit- 
ations, but  from  the  very  first  he  was  a  poet 


Introduction 

in  his  prose.  Yet  even  his  early  prose,  im- 
measurably finer  than  his  early  verse,  won 
quite  an  inadequate  hearing.  Recognition 
came  slowly  to  his  door,  and  amid  deprecia- 
tion and  comparative  neglect  he  had  to 
struggle  for  years  with  actual  privation.  One 
solace  in  this  ordeal  was  his  friendship  with 
a  brilliant  coterie  of  men,  including  James 
Thomson,  the  author  of  "The  City  of  Dread- 
ful Night,"  and  that  strange  humourist, 
Thomas  Love  Peacock,  whose  daughter  be- 
came Meredith's  first  wife.  Holman  Hunt 
thus  describes  his  appearance  about  this  time : 
"Of  nut-brown  hair  and  blue  eyes,  the  per- 
fect type  of  a  well-bred  Englishman,  he  stood 
about  five  feet  eight."  Eventually  he  shared 
the  curious  household  organised  at  Chelsea 
by  Swinburne  and  the  two  Rossettis,  but  four 
men  of  genius  within  four  walls  are  scarcely 
a  permanent  concourse  of  atoms,  and  Mere- 
dith's stay  was  only  shorter  than  that  of 
Swinburne.  His  later  years  were  mostly 
spent  amid  the  Surrey  hills,  gladdened  by  the 
widening  reputation  which  the  years  brought 
tardily  around  his  name.  Public  apprecia- 
tion of  his  genius  was  comparatively  slow 
5 


George  Meredith 

and  limited.  This  has  been  partly  due  to 
the  peculiar  nature  of  his  work,  partly, 
perhaps,  to  the  general  state  of  the  English 
literary  conscience  when  he  first  made  his 
appeal  to  the  reading  public — if  it  be  true, 
as  Professor  Saintsbury  declares,  that  our 
criticism  had  reached  a  humiliating  nadir 
between  1840  and  1860.  Meredith's  reception 
at  any  rate  is  not  an  isolated  phenomenon  ;  it 
illustrates  the  familiar  law  that  contemporary 
criticisms  of  a  masterpiece  are  often  a  stagger- 
ing bequest  to  posterity.  He  had  to  row 
against  the  tide,  and  the  effort  was  harder  for 
him  than  for  many  others.  His  ideal  of  prose- 
fiction  was  in  daring  revolt  against  the  con- 
ventional canons  of  an  age  which  was  not 
prepared  to  welcome  even  a  consummate 
genius  setting  itself  to  be  the  exponent  of  life 
lived  under  restless  tendencies  due  to  the 
scientific  movement  and  the  ethical  idealism 
of  the  period,  with  its  sense  of  social  respon- 
sibility and  trend  towards  introspectiveness. 
He  also  share'd  the  tendency  of  the  Victorian 
period  to  be  less  inspired  and  more  artistic 
than  its  predecessor,  and  in  this  way  became 
a  voice  for  other  audiences  than  those  found 
6 


Introduction 

in  the  market-place.  "My  way,"  he  con- 
fessed, "is  like  a  Rhone  island  in  the  summer 
drought,  stony,  unattractive  and  difficult, 
between  the  two  forceful  streams  of  the  un- 
real and  the  over-real.  My  people  are  actual, 
yet  uncommon.  It  is  the  clock-work  of  the 
brain  that  they  are  directed  to  set  in  motion." 
Or,  in  another  of  his  metaphors,  he  set  out  to 
make  a  road  between  Adam  and  Macadam, 
and  he  did  so,  using  prose-fiction  to  mirror 
contemporary  life  as  it  lay  between  the  ani- 
mal existence  and  the  artificial.  To  this  task 
he  brought  imagination  and  penetration,  flexi- 
bility of  mind  and  a  cosmopolitan  freedom  of 
outlook,  gifts  which  were  certain  to  prevail 
before  long  with  the  competent,  but  as  certain 
to  miss  immediate  or  widespread  favour  with 
people  who  found  it  difficult  to  appreciate  his 
methods  or  to  sympathise  with  his  peculiar 
aims. 

For,  however  it  may  be  rated,  his  work 
must  be  allowed  to  possess  distinction.  Even 
a  casual  reader  can  hardly  fail  to  be  impressed 
by  its  sense  of  power  and  its  absence  of 
echoes.  In  reach  and  range  it  breathes  an 
originality,  often  a  daring  originality,  which 
7 


George  Meredith 

differentiates  it  easily  from  previous  or  con- 
temporary fiction.  The  influence  of  Richard- 
son has  been  traced  here  and  there,  but  taken 
as  a  whole,  Meredith's  work  occupies  a  class 
of  its  own  and  goes  back  to  few  serious  pat- 
terns. There  is,  indeed,  more  than  a  remin- 
iscence of  Peacock,  e.g.,  in  the  fantastic  ele- 
ment which  occasionally  crops  up,  from 
"The  Shaving  of  Shagpat "— that  amazingly 
witty  burlesque  of  the  Arabian  Nights — to 
the  weariful  apologues  of  Delphica  and  the 
Rajah  in  London  which  disfigure  that  already 
tangled  web,  "  One  of  Our  Conquerors."  Dr. 
Folliot  in  "Crotchet  Castle"  is  cousin  to 
Dr.  Middleton  in  "The  Egoist,"  and  the  idea 
underlying  books  like  "Maid  Marian"  and 
"Farina"  is  substantially  the  same — an  at- 
tempt to  reproduce,  with  gentle  satire,  the 
mediaeval  romance  of  sentiment  and  gay 
adventure.  The  whimsical  element,  in 
"  Nightmare  Abbey,"  for  example,  the  bril- 
liant dialogue  of  " Melincourt "  and  "Head- 
long Hall,"  the  attitude  of  keen  and  even 
caustic  humour  towards  contemporary  society 
and  its  foibles,  the  admixture  of  raillery  and 
sympathy,  the  subservience  of  the  love- 


Introduction 

interest  to  wider  matters,  the  Rabelaisian  fling, 
the  dash  of  farce,  the  combination  of  narra- 
tive and  dissertation,  the  sense  that  nothing 
can  be  too  good  and  few  things  too  bad  to  be 
laughed  at — these  are  some  of  the  elements 
common  to  Peacock  and  his  distinguished  son- 
in-law,  although  the  latter  is  exact  and  careful 
in  his  use  of  language  and  free  from  outbursts 
of  boyish  petulance.  In  the  prelude  to  "  The 
Egoist,"  and  occasionally  in  the  rhapsodical 
apostrophes  and  some  of  the  ethical  concep- 
tions throughout  the  novels  especially,  there 
are  not  indistinct  echoes  of  Garlyle,  for 
whom,  as  readers  of  "Beauchamp's  Career" 
will  recollect,  Meredith,  like  Dickens  had 
undisguised  admiration.  Garlyle  is  one  of 
the  few  contemporary  writers  directly  men- 
tioned by  the  novelist,  and  the  affinities  of 
thought  and  even  expression  between  the  two 
writers  demand  rather  more  attention  than 
seems  to  have  been  as  yet  bestowed  on  them. 
How  much  of  Meredith's  own  succinct  and 
irregular  style,  for  example,  is  recalled  in 
his  famous  account  of  "  Heroes  and  Hero- 
Worship" — "a  style  resembling  either  early 
architecture  or  utter  dilapidation,  so  loose  and 
9 


George  Meredith 

rough  it  seemed  ;  a  wind-in-the-orchard  style, 
that  tumbled  down  here  and  there  an  appre- 
ciable fruit  with  uncouth  bluster ;  sentences 
without  commencements  running  to  abrupt 
endings  and  smoke,  like  waves  against  a  sea- 
wall ...  all  the  pages  in  a  breeze,  the  whole 
book  producing  a  kind  of  electrical  agitation 
in  the  mind  and  the  joints. "  Many  a  reader  of 
Meredith  has  felt  precisely  like  Nevil  Beau- 
champ  in  Malta,  as  he  read  the  black  and 
bright  lecturer  on  Heroes,  "getting  nibbles  of 
golden  meaning  by  instalments,  as  with  a 
solitary  pick  in  a  very  dark  mine,  until  the 
illumination  of  an  idea  struck  him  that  there 
was  a  great  deal  more  in  the  book  than 
there  was  in  himself." 

It  is  this  volume  and  animation,  informed 
by  a  brilliant  style  and  imagination  of  a  very 
high  order,  that  constitutes  the  main  title  of 
George  Meredith  to  literary  fame.  His  work 
has  been  remarkably  sustained  and  even  in 
quality.  "  Richard  Feverel "  was  pronounced 
by  the  Times  to  be  "a  powerful  work,  pene- 
trative in  its  depth  of  insight  and  rich  in  its 
variety  of  experience."  It  is  a  remarkable 
piece  of  writing,  but  it  is  doubly  remarkable 
10 


Introduction 

when  we  consider  that  it  was  composed  by  a 
man  of  thirty  as  his  first  serious  romance,  and 
as  far  back  as  1859.  Plenty  of  writers  possess 
ability  enough  to  secure  one  conspicuous 
success,  comparatively  speaking,  and  there  are 
authors  in  every  age  who  practically  live  upon 
the  reputation  of  a  single  early  work.  But 
"  Richard  Feverel"  was  only  the  first  blossom 
of  Meredith's  genius.  It  was  not  tentative  nor 
did  it  exhaust  the  author's  power.  The  long  line 
of  its  successors  proved  that  he  possessed 
intellectual  resources  versatile  and  serious 
enough  to  deserve  the  closest  consideration 
from  anyone  who  would  estimate  the  central 
currents  of  literary  influence  flowing  through 
the  Victorian  era.  A  dozen  times  at  least 
in  almost  every  one  of  his  novels  we  stop  to 
say,  "this  is  literature";  the  workmanship 
wears  what  Coventry  Patmore  called  "the 
glittering  crown  of  wit,"  viz.,  "a  synthesis  of 
gravity  of  matter  and  gaiety  of  manner." 
But  Meredith  is  more  than  a  litterateur.  There 
are  passages  which  arrest  and  impress  the 
reader  with  a  still  deeper  feeling,  when  the 
mass  of  thought  or  the  thrill  of  action  is 
clothed  upon  with  passion,  and  words  fit 
ti 


George  Meredith 

emotion  with  a  felicitousness  or  a  closeness 
which  seems  inevitable.  At  Belthorpe  or  at 
Wilming  Weir,  with  Emilia  singing  in  the 
wood,  over  Clare  Doria  Forey's  diary  and 
the  marine  duet  in  "Lord  Ormont  and  his 
Aminta,"  with  Mazzini  in  Italy  or  Beauchamp 
at  Venice,  at  the  cricket  supper  in  "Evan 
Harrington"  or  with  Harry  and  Temple  on  the 
Priscilla,  with  Lord  Fleetwood  at  his  prize 
fight  and  Diana  Warwick  at  the  Crossways — 
over  these  and  fifty  other  passages,  salt  and 
aglow  with  the  breath  of  reality,  the  pulse 
quickens.  We  forget  the  author,  we  forget 
the  book  ;  the  word  springs  to  our  lips,  "This 
—this  is  life."  The  sense  of  style  and  com- 
position, elsewhere  (it  must  be  owned)  not 
always  unobtrusive,  falls  away  before  the 
consciousness  of  life  seen  and  life  shown. 
Genius  is  not  a  word  to  be  applied  broadcast, 
particularly  among  novelists,  but  no  other 
term  is  adequate  to  such  proofs  of  mental 
power.  No  doubt  there  are  tracts  in  Meredith 
over  which,  more  or  less  reasonably,  people 
gasp  and  yawn,  but  these  are  trifling  compared 
to  the  total  achievement  of  the  author,  and 
it  is  upon  the  evidence  of  such  passages  as  I 
12 


Introduction 

have  indicated  that  in  all  fairness  he  must  be 
judged.  A  racehorse,  Montaigne  will  tell 
you  in  his  acute  and  charitable  way,  is  remem- 
bered not  by  his  defeats  but  by  the  races  he 
has  won. 

If  novels  are  to  be  written  on  a  theory, 
it  is   good  to  have   the  theory  expounded 
by  the  novelist  himself,   as  by  Fielding  in 
the  preface  to  "Joseph  Andrews."    Thanks 
to    scattered    hints    throughout   the  novels, 
principally  in  defence  of  his    hand-maiden 
Philosophy,  as  well  as  to  the  published  "Essay 
upon  Comedy,"  we  possess  sufficient  points  to 
enable  us  roughly  to  calculate  the  curve  pur- 
sued by  Meredith's  vivacious,  graceful  genius. 
Take  first  and  foremost  these  lines  from  his 
"Modern  Love."    He  writes  : 
In  tragic  life,  God  wot, 
No  villain  need  be  !  Passions  spin  the  plot : 
We  are  betrayed  by  what  is  false  within. 

The  heart  of  Meredith's  method  lies  in  these 
three  lines,  and  it  is  true  to  the  Aristotelian 
canon.  There  are  really  no  villains  in  his 
novels.  The  oversong  of  the  philosophy 
which  dominates  his  prose,  is  that  character 
amounts  to  fate  ;  some  inward  twist  of  the 
13 


George  Meredith 

soul,  some  mental  deviation,  that  explains  the 
mischief  done  by  a  man  to  himself  or  others. 
Impulses  and  motives  swarm  in  the  pool  of 
consciousness,  and  over  that  pool  you  find 
Meredith  bending  eagerly.  It  is  rippled  by 
circumstance,  to  be  sure,  but  he  is  mainly 
engrossed  in  a  minute  and  varied  study  of 
that  "  busy  little  creature,"  the  human  self, 
with  its  attendant  infusoria  of  whims  and 
passions.  This  was  not  by  any  means  a  new 
departure  in  fiction.  Such  a  psychological 
attitude  had  been  already  occupied  by  George 
Eliot,  whose  lineal  successor  in  this  direction 
Meredith  undoubtedly  may  claim  to  be  ;  and 
it  is  not  perhaps  insignificant  that  the  definitive 
edition  of  the  Com6die  Humaine  was  published 
in  the  same  year  as  "Richard  Feverel."  But 
es  giebt  kein  Plagiat  in  der  Philosophic,  and  this 
interest  in  mental  chemistry  is  perennial. 
Meredith  captivates  his  audience  at  any  rate 
by  quite  an  original  application  of  the  psycho- 
logical method,  combining  the  unconcern  of 
the  artist  with  something  of  the  keen  serious- 
ness felt  by  a  responsible  thinker.  He  sums 
all  this  up  conveniently  in  the  phrase — "the 
Comic  Spirit";  a  hint  which  supplies  us  with 
14 


Introduction 

the  colours  upon  his  palette  and  the  features 
of  the  one  model  who  sits  to  him  in  all 
manner  of  positions  for  her  portrait. 

The  "  Comic  Spirit n  represents  an  attitude 
of  mind  to  life.  Contemplative  passion  or — 
better  still — impassioned  contemplation  might 
be  taken  as  its  definition.  It  is  the  ethos  of  a 
calm,  curious  observer,  alive  to  the  pretences 
and  foibles  of  mankind,  yet  loving  them  none 
the  less  that  he  is  thus  acutely  sensitive  to 
their  untrained  opinions,  their  affectations, 
pedantries,  delusions,  inconsistencies,  hypo- 
crisies. The  Comic  Spirit  is  incisive.  But  it 
is  creative  and  instructive,  as  well  as  critical. 
It  represents  the  wit  of  wisdom,  sly,  shrewd, 
and  sympathetic — as  we  find  it,  for  example, 
in  Chaucer  or  in  Shakespeare,  the  Shake- 
speare of  Theseus  in  the  "Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  "  as  he  chides  Hippolyta.  In  Meredith 
it  plays  upon  men's  motives  as  these  are 
rippled  by  the  social  world.  It  feels  for  the 
springs  of  action  lying  in  the  ideas  rather  than 
in  the  appetites  of  man.  Life,  Meredith  pro- 
tests, is  crossed  and  recrossed  by  people  who 
drift  into  absurdities,  or  riot  in  unconscious 
vanities,  or  make  pretensions,  or  violate  indi- 
15 


George  Meredith 

vidually  and  in  the  bulk  unwritten  laws  of 
justice,  reason,  and  good  sense,  getting  them- 
selves into  every  kind  of  tragic  or  false 
position.  The  Comic  Spirit  traces  in  all 
this  "what  is  false  within,"  what  pulls  the 
strings.  And  its  object  is  not  malign.  Really 
it  is  on  the  side  of  hope,  imagination,  and 
romance ;  it  is  never  spiteful  or  superior.  It 
prevents  the  lassitude  of  indifference  and 
delivers  from  a  bitter  and  mad  despair.  You 
come  near  denning  it  when  you  speak  of  "the 
humour  of  the  mind,"  rich  and  warm  and 
wise,  which  strives  to  transmute  sympathy 
from  intolerable  pain  into  active  interest, 
and  which  is  pleasantly  bent  upon  disen- 
tangling commonsense  from  its  corruptions 
and  from  what  is  often  worse — its  caricatures. 
What  then  is  the  proper  field  of  the  Comic 
Spirit?  Evidently  social  life,  and  especially 
the  refined  and  polished  existence  peculiar 
to  the  trim  parks  of  modern  civilisation, 
"where  we  have  no  dust  of  the  struggling 
outer  world,  no  mire,  no  violent  crashes." 
Like  his  favourite  poets,  Menander,  Terence, 
and  Moltere,  Meredith  is  a  painter  of  man- 
ners—manners being  ultimately  mores.  He 
16 


Introduction 

is  deeply  concerned  with  the  qualities  and 
conditions  of  contemporary  society,  the 
marsh  where  the  plant  of  his  quest  grows 
luxuriantly.  Man's  future  on  earth,  he  is 
frank  to  confess,  does  not  concern  the 
Comic  Spirit ;  but  man's  honesty  and  shape- 
liness in  the  present  does.  To  Meredith, 
accordingly,  the  state  of  English  society  with 
its  mental  lethargy,  is  a  fair  province  for  the 
exercise  of  his  analysis.  "The  English,"  we 
read,  "are  people  requiring  to  be  studied, 
who  mean  well,  and  are  warm  somewhere 
below,  as  chimney-pots  are,  though  they  are  so 
stiff. "  ' '  They  call  themselves  practical  for  hav- 
ing an  addiction  to  the  palpable."  This  applies 
mainly  to  the  upper  classes ;  for  although 
Meredith  hardly  ever  fails  in  depicting  coun- 
try folk  or  vulgar  natures,  these  are  foils  as  a 
rule  to  the  leading  figures,  and  his  method 
naturally  leads  him  to  find  his  central  pivots 
elsewhere.  He  succeeds,  where  Dickens 
failed,  with  his  aristocrats.  Over  and  again 
his  microscope  is  turned  upon  the  British 
aristocracy  or  upper  middle  class,  not  seldom 
(like  the  Matthew  Arnold  of  "Culture  and 
Anarchy")  upon  young  gentlemen  "who  are 
17 


George  Meredith 

simply  engines  of  their  appetites  and  to  the 
philosophic  eye  "  quite  savage  and  primeval. 
His  backgrounds  range  from  Wales  to  Italy; 
German  socialism,  the  Italian  or  Spanish 
War  of  Independence,  English  politics, 
mining,  education,  railways,  the  navy — any- 
thing to  throw  into  relief  the  pettiness  of 
luxury,  whether  luxury  means  the  wrapping 
up  of  the  mind  or  the  indulgence  of  the 
appetites.  It  is  noticeable,  too,  that  he  is  fond  of 
introducing  some  conflict  and  play  of  different 
temperaments,  either  social  or  racial,  English 
or  foreign ;  for  example,  Celtic  and  Italian, 
Radical  and  Tory,  Conservative  and  Philis- 
tine, artistic  and  patriotic.  This  is  due  not 
merely  to  his  fine  cosmopolitanism,  elevated 
above  any  Florentine  idea  offuori,  but  to  the 
obvious  advantages  afforded  by  such  situa- 
tions for  the  trial  and  purgation  of  character 
Emergencies  and  exigencies  like  these  pro- 
vide ample  and  easy  material  for  the  Comic 
Spirit  alert  to  understand  the  workings  of  our 
British  nature.  Too  busy  to  be  diverted  by 
the  contemporary  revival  of  mediaevalism, 
Meredith  has  strenuously  warred  against  the 
solid  materialism  and  complacent  impcr vious- 
18 


Introduction 

ness  to  ideas  which,  in  his  judgment, 
distinguish  and  imperil  the  fat,  opulent  epoch 
lying  under  his  own  eyes.  How  ironical  is 
such  a  use  of  the  English  novel !  In  Meredith's 
hands  it  is  a  sort1  of  boomerang,  as  is  apparent 
when  we  recollect  the  circumstances  of  its 
origin,  in  an  essentially  unheroic  and  prosaic 
society  of  people,  who  were  (as  T.  H.  Green 
excellently  puts  it)  quite  "self-satisfied  and 
pleased  with  their  surroundings."  Satire 
lavished  on  this  state  of  things  is  not  effec- 
tive. Native  obtuseness  proves  too  thick 
for  most  of  its  quick  shafts.  Besides,  prop- 
erly speaking,  the  satirist  is  but  semi-artistic; 
like  the  bluebottle,  to  borrow  from  Emilia's 
fancy,  he  only  sings  when  he  is  bothered. 
Meredith  has  the  gentler  and  more  piercing 
method  of  delicately  analysing  a  decadent 
society  to  itself,  and  assisting  health  by  the 
revelation  of  innate  capacities  for  mischief 
as  subtle  and  formidable  as  bacilli.  An  artist 
to  the  finger-tips,  he  would  be  inadequately 
described  as  a  man  of  letters.  He  is  that, 
but  he  is  more.  Not  unlike  Hugo  and 
Tolstoy,  he  can  allow  his  art  to  be  saturated 
with  his  ethic,  and  yet  retain  the  essentials  of 
19 


George  Meredith 

the  artist's  glamour ;  which  is  wise  indeed 
for  an  author  who  addresses  people  rightly 
suspicious  of  prose  or  verse  that  has  designs 
upon  them.  But  this  ethical  interest  steers 
wide  of  malignant  irony  and  cynicism,  those 
barbarian  forms  of  humour.  They  are  spiteful 
and  superior.  They  represent  a  savage  type 
of  the  genuine  Comic  Spirit,  and  Meredith  is 
at  pains  to  show,  in  characters  like  Adrian 
Harley  and  Colney  Durance,  how  ineffec- 
tive and  subordinate  a  place  is  assigned  to 
the  satirical  temper  in  the  direction  of 
affairs.  What  are  the  spurts  of  satire? 
"  Darkening  jests  on  a  river  of  slime."  The 
Comic  Spirit  is  a  spirit  of  silvery  laughter. 
"  You  may  estimate  your  capacity  for  comic 
perception  by  being  able  to  detect  the 
ridicule  of  them  you  love,  without  loving 
them  less."  Meredith's  art,  indeed,  like  that 
of  all  genuine  humourists,  rises  from  deep 
pools  of  gravity.  Laughter,  with  him,  to  be 
legitimate  must  be  the  child  of  sympathy  and 
of  delight.  It  is  infinitely  serious,  too  serious 
to  be  cynical  or  pessimistic.  To  be  cynical, 
he  bluntly  declares,  is  merely  the  raw 
attempt  of  the  worldly  man  to  appear  deep ; 
20 


Introduction 

as  a  form  of  mental  and  moral  superficiality, 
it  should  be  dismissed  by  the  penetrative 
observer  with  derision.  Neither  depression 
nor  scepticism  is  the  ultimate  attitude 
towards  the  inconsistencies  and  errors 
of  the  race.  "Who  is  the  coward 
among  us  ?  He  who  sneers  at  the  failings  of 
Humanity."  "What  is  contempt,"  he  asks 
again,  "but  an  excuse  to  be  idly  minded,  or 
personally  lofty,  or  comfortably  narrow,  not 
perfectly  humane  ?  "  Meredith  never  sneers. 
He  is  never  savage  or  morose,  hardly 
ever  mocking  in  the  vein  of  Ibsen  and 
Anatole  France,  though  he  can  be  caustic 
when  he  chooses.  The  controlling  principle 
of  his  work  is  to  be  nobly  serious  and  witty, 
often  in  the  same  breath.  Wit  with  him  has 
a  surgical  function  in  contemporary  society, 
but  this  does  not  involve  an  accumulation  of 
physiological  details  or  the  pursuit  of  human 
documents.  Folly  indeed  seems  to  him  cap- 
able of  ever  new  shapes  in  an  effeminate  and 
decadent  age.  A  pestilence  flieth  abroad ; 
but  its  infection  is  to  be  met  by  common- 
sense  allied  to  laughter.  "  The  vigilant  Comic 
Spirit  as  the  genius  of  thoughtful  laughter  " — 
21 


George  Meredith 

such  is  Meredith's  contribution  to  the  moral 
sanitation  of  the  day.  It  is  too  intellectual,  too 
limited  in  its  range,  too  rarefied,  to  be  a  per- 
fect purge,  but  it  has  a  function  of  its  own. 
He  is  never  done  praising  laughter,  thought- 
ful laughter.  It  clears  the  heart,  as  thunder 
clears  the  air.  It  is  the  wine  and  bread 
of  sanity.  In  his  opinion,  one  great  cure 
for  the  age  and  its  troubles  would  be 
reached  if  people  could  be  persuaded  first  of 
all  to  laugh  at  themselves  a  little,  and  thus 
get  rid  of  silly  pride  and  obstinacy  ;  then  to 
laugh,  with  trembling  in  their  mirth,  at  other 
people,  instead  of  growing  impatient  and 
angry  at  the  follies  and  affectations  of  the 
race.  Folly  is  the  natural  prey  of  the  Comic 
Spirit;  and  if  people  are  to  be  lifted  out  of 
folly,  with  its  pretensions,  its  love  of  posing, 
its  indulgence  of  the  senses  or  the  emotions 
at  the  expense  of  the  mind,  the  first  step  is  to 
make  them  smart  and  meditate.  Meredith, 
like  Thackeray,  although  with  weapons  of  a 
different  calibre,  strikes  at  his  age,  with  its 
absurdities  and  maladies,  in  a  splendid  discon- 
tent. But  his  blows  are  as  positive  in  direc- 
tion as  they  are  delivered  with  artistic  grace. 
22 


Introduction 

To  resume  a  simile  applied  somewhere  by 
Chateaubriand  to  Cromwell's  revolutionary 
methods,  he  destroys  what  he  encounters  in 
much  the  same  peremptory  and  deliberate 
fashion  as  Michael  Angelo  destroyed  the 
marble  with  his  chisel. 

Unflinching  realism  of  this  kind  helps 
to  make  Meredith's  optimism  both  grate- 
ful and  convincing.  "I  can  hear  a  faint 
crow  of  the  cocks  of  fresh  mornings  far,  far, 
yet  distinct."  However  the  artistic  merits 
of  the  two  writers  be  adjusted,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  moral  atmosphere  in  Thomas 
Hardy's  novels  is  distinctly  autumnal :  in 
Meredith,  upon  the  other  hand,  it  is  that  of 
a  bright,  keen  day  in  spring,  when  to  be  out- 
of-doors  is  a  healthy  joy  for  those  who  do 
not  mind  tingling  ears  and  cheeks  slapped  by 
the  rain.  This — were  the  word  less  ugly — 
might  be  termed  his  meliorism.  He  stands 
much  nearer  to  an  invigorating  cordial  Scandi- 
navian, like  his  contemporary  Bjornson,  than 
to  the  sombre  genius  of  Ibsen.  He  contests 
and  challenges,  because  it  seems  to  him 
worth  while  to  do  so.  The  tide  is  usually 
turning  on  his  beach.  Face  all  the  facts,  he 
23 


George  Meredith 

insists,  instead  of  shrouding  inconvenient 
things  in  a  painted  veil  of  sentiment ;  yet  as 
eagerly  he  urges  "the  rapture  of  the  forward 
view,"  and  with  elastic  optimism  hurries  on 
to  administer  a  sharp  rebuke  to  those  who 
nod  gloomily  and  dolefully  over  progress, 
breaking  into  Jobisms  over  the  nightmare  of 
"life  as  a  wheezy  crone."  Ideals,  or  idols, 
are  not  always  gifted  with  two  legs.  What 
of  that?  "Who  can  really  think  and  not 
think  hopefully?"  "When  we  despair  or 
discolour  things,  it  is  our  senses  in  revolt, 
and  they  have  made  the  sovereign  brain  their 
drudge.  .  .  There  is  nothing  the  body  suffers, 
that  the  soul  may  not  profit  by.  .  .  Philosophy 
bids  us  to  see  that  we  are  not  so  pretty  as 
rosepink,  not  so  repulsive  as  dirty  drab ;  and 
that  the  sight  of  ourselves  is  wholesome, 
bearable,  fructifying,  finally  a  delight."  Here 
we  have  the  ethical  soul  of  Meredith  articu- 
late. It  is  an  optimism  which  is  surer  of 
itself  than  in  Matthew  Arnold,  and  less 
exasperating,  because  drawn  from  deeper 
fountains,  than  in  Browning ;  on  its  horizon 
there  is  the  promise,  absent  from  Mark 
Rutherford's  quiet  and  gray  skies,  of 
24 


Introduction 

a    dawn  with    uplifting   power.      Meredith 

knows  his  Richter,  and  many  sections  of  his 

philosophy  are  little  more  than  a  brilliant 

expansion  and  application  of  the  German's 

adage:  be  great  enough  to  despise  the  world, 

and  greater  in  order  to  esteem  it.    Only  from 

such  a  mental  attitude  does  endurance  flow: 

"A  fortitude  quiet  as  Earth's 

At  the  shedding  of  leaves." 

Progress,  accordingly,   is  bound  up  with 

mental  and  moral  discipline,  alike  for  men 

and    nations.       "Strength    is    not    won    by 

miracle  or  rape."    Shibli  must  be  thwacked, 

if  he  is  to  reach  his  goal,  and  the  resolute 

philosophy  of  thwacking — for  mind  no  less 

than    for    body    and    fortune — pervades    all 

Meredith's  romances.     It  is  the  only  way  to 

cure  egoism  with  its  arrogance  and  mischief. 

"Lo!  of  hundreds  who  aspire, 

Eighties  perish — nineties  tire! 

They  who  bear  up,  in  spite  of  wrecks  and 

wracks, 

Were  seasoned  by  celestial  hail  of  thwacks. 
Fortune  in  this  mortal  race 
Builds  on  thwackings  for  a  base." 
Or,  as  Dr.  Middleton  rudely  shocked  that 
arch-sentimentalist  Sir  Willoughby  Patterne 
25 


George  Meredith 

by  blurting  out,  all  unwhipped  boys  make 
ill-balanced  men.  "They  won't  take  rough 
and  smooth  as  they  come.  They  make  bad 
blood,  can't  forgive,  sniff  right  and  left  for 
approbation,  and  are  excited  to  anger  if  an 
east  wind  does  not  flatter  them.  .  .  We 
English  beat  the  world,  because  we  take  a 
licking  well."  The  rain  and  wind  blow 
through  Meredith's  verse  and  prose,  and 
they  form  by  no  means  an  accidental  setting. 
He  is  an  obstinate  believer  in  the  sweet  uses 
of  adversity,  and  spends  pages  of  instruction 
and  amusement  in  an  effort  to  commend  the 
old  thesis  that  the  bloom  of  health  comes  to 
the  soul  as  to  the  body  by  frank  battling 
with  the  elements,  not  by  luxurious  coddling 
within  doors.  "I  am  well  and  'plucky,' 
— a  word  which  I  propose  to  substitute  for 
'happy'  as  more  truthful."  In  this  remark 
of  George  Eliot  to  Mrs.  Bray  there  is  a  good 
deal  of  Meredith's  philosophy  about  facing 
facts  and  accepting  adversity  bravely. 

It  is  at  this  point  that  the  Comic  Spirit 
pounces,  with  relentless  beak,  upon  the  two 
cardinal  foes  to  health  and  progress  in  con- 
temporary life.  These  are  both  born  of  the 


Introduction 

habit  of  taking  ourselves  too  seriously,  and 
their  names  are  pride  and  sentimentalism.  To 
avoid  thwackings,  to  neglect  inconvenient 
ideas  and  experiences,  to  shelter  oneself  be- 
hind incredulity  or  disdain  from  awkward 
things  in  the  rough,  actual  world,  is  the  chosen 
paradise  of  quite  a  host  of  men  and  women. 
Meredith's  soul  does  not  weep  in  secret  for 
this  mischievous  and  widespread  pride.  He 
darts  on  it  like  an  unhooded  falcon.  From 
first  to  last,  with  all  his  gaiety  and  gravity,  he 
is  engaged  in  exposing  the  pride  of  egoism,  to 
its  own  shame  and  good.  Social  ambition — 
the  disposition  to  rise  in  the  world — naturally 
terms  its  most  obvious  expression,  as  in  "The 
House  on  the  Beach,"  or  better  still  in  that 
most  pitiful  tale  "  Rhoda  Fleming "  (more 
pitiful  because  wider  than  "  The  Tale  of 
Chloe")  and  in  the  sparkling  comedy  of 
"Evan  Harrington."  But  this  had  been  for 
long  exploited  by  Thackeray,  and  after  all  it 
forms  a  naive  and  therefore  less  dangerous 
symptom  of  the  disease.  ' '  Dombey  and  Son, " 
too,  had  lashed  sufficiently  the  pride  of  mer- 
cantile position.  Yet  more  subtle  phases  lie 
behind ;  the  conceit  of  a  peacock,  as  in  the 
27 


George  Meredith 

strutting  vanity  of  Shibli  Bagarag  ;  a  vain  pas- 
sion for  hereditary  distinction,  as  in  "Harry 
Richmond;"  an  affectation  of  culture  and  re- 
finement, as  in  the  Misses  Pole ;  an  attempt  to 
play  Providence  and  cut  down  nature  to  suit 
an  artificial  theory,  as  in  Sir  Austin  Feverel : 
and  so  on.  Pride  is  a  very  Proteus  in  these 
novels.  You  have  the  pride  of  injured  feel- 
ings, the  obstinate  pride  that  (in  Lord  Ormont 
and  Lord  Fleetwood,  'the  base  Indians'  of 
their  tribe)  inflicts  cruelty  half  unwittingly 
upon  others  and  even  starves  itself  for  some 
fancied  insult;  you  have  the  pride,  half 
creditable,  half  Quixotic,  that  drives  Richard 
Feverel  from  his  wife  and  child,  in  a  passage 
which  Stevenson,  with  brave  enthusiasm, 
pronounced  the  "strongest  since  Shakespeare, 
in  the  English  tongue";  you  have  the  feudal 
pride  of  Egoism,  a  narrow  self-confidence 
which  calmly  appropriates  as  much  of  the 
world  as  it  can  reach  and  as  calmly  dooms  the 
rest.  In  short,  if  "passions  spin  the  plot," 
the  master-passion  with  Meredith's  heroes 
and  heroines  is  pride.  Or  rather,  we  should 
say,  false  pride.  For  the  author  is  quick 
to  allow  that  "a  man's  pride  is  the  front  and 

28 


Introduction 

headpiece  of  his  character,  his  soul's  support 
or  snare."  It  is  a  snare  in  almost  all  the 
Meredith-romances,  to  lover,  husband,  father, 
man  of  the  world.  Life  is  continually  netting 
itself  in  the  meshes  of  false  pride  ;  in  a 
refusal  to  admit  one  has  been  wrong,  in  the 
disinclination  to  repair  a  mistake,  in  the  habit 
of  clinging  at  all  costs  to  belief  in  one's  own 
superior  wisdom,  in  the  greed  of  admiration, 
or  the  dislike  of  criticism.  The  battle  of  false 
pride  is  always  against  itself,  and  Meredith  is 
never  finer,  he  is  seldom  more  satisfying,  than 
in  portraying  this  struggle  of  the  soul  to  ex- 
tricate itself  from  the  results  of  a  past  impulse 
of  passion  or  from  the  coil  of  inherited  pre- 
judice. Tragedy  with  him  consists  in  showing 
how  this  awakening  is  either  inadequate  or 
too  late,  and  failure  (in  the  last  analysis) 
means  pride  imperfectly  beaten  out  of  life. 
"Surely  an  unteachable  spirit, "he declares,  "is 
one  of  the  most  tragic  things  in  life."  Which 
is  a  variation  upon  Garlyle's  favourite  thesis 
that  no  one  falls  into  misery  without  having 
first  tumbled  into  folly.  Perhaps  the  irony  of 
this  is  even  less  evident  in  the  sullen  forms  of 
pride  than  in  the  disasters  that  await  sheer, 
29 


George  Meredith 

irrepressible,  good-natured  souls  like  Roy 
Richmond  and  Victor  Radnor,  in  whom  false 
pride  exists  as  a  lovable  but  fatal  spirit  of  san- 
guine and  infatuated  buoyancy. 

To  sentimentalism,  or  emotional  self-indul- 
gence, which  forms  the  companion  weed  of 
highly  civilized  society,  Meredith  is  equally 
remorseless.  Here  also  there  is  to  be  detected, 
in  his  judgment,  a  fatal  lack  of  that  inward 
and  thorough  grappling  with  the  facts  of  life 
(and  by  facts  Meredith  does  not  exclude  ideas) 
which  is  the  fundamental  virtue  of  his  ethic. 
The  sentimentalist  lives  in  unrealities.  He 
looks  at  Nature  with  his  eyes  half-closed,  or 
else  he  considers  some  select  portions  of  her. 
Factitious  and  morbid,  he  is  a  dilettante  play- 
ing delicately  and  selfishly  with  extracts  from 
the  Book  of  Life ;  the  result  being  that  his 
opinions  and  aims  are  essentially  false,  his 
aspirations  generally  little  better  than  mere 
twitches  of  egoism,  and  his  tenderness  a  petty 
whimper  of  false  sympathy.  Peace  is  his 
ideal,  meaning  a  lotos-land  of  freedom  from 
disturbance;  "peace,  that  lullaby  word  for 
decay!"  A  character  of  this  kind  is  the  nat- 
ural, trashy  product  of  a  fat  soil,  where 
30 


Introduction 

wealth  and  leisure  often  can  be  adjusted  so  as 
to  shut  off  the  elect  from  impolite  Nature. 
Sentimentalists,  as  Meredith  goes  on  gravely 
to  explain,  are  a  variety  due  to  a  long  process 
of  comfortable  feeding,  but  there  is  one  differ- 
ence between  them  and  the  pig.  The  pig 
too  passes  through  a  training  of  rich  nourish- 
ment. Only  it  is  not  in  him  combined  with 
an  indigestion  of  high  German  romance. 
Pray  do  justice  to  the  pig!  Particularly  in 
the  "Egoist"  and  (with  an  unwonted  note  of 
tragedy)  in  "Sandra  Belloni,"  Meredith  takes 
wickedldelight  in  analysing  the  absurdity  and 
mischief  of  a  spirit  which  would  varnish 
civilization,  or — in  another  metaphor — con- 
ceal the  tails  of  those  polished,  stately  crea- 
tures who  inhabit  culture's  paradise.  Garlyle 
lashed  this  Werterism  or  Transcendentalism  ; 
Heine  mocked  it ;  Emerson  pricked  it ;  Mere- 
dith laughed  it  out  of  court.  Sentimentalism 
in  a  word  spells  for  him  mental  immaturity 
and  moral  opium.  It  is,  to  use  his  own  fine 
aphorism,  enjoyment  without  obligation,  an 
attempt  to  taste  existence  without  incurring 
responsibility.  Upon  the  other  hand,  the 
better  policy  of  treating  Nature  frankly, 
31 


George  Meredith 

which  Meredith  shares  with  the  scientific 
movement  of  the  age,  makes  an  incessant 
demand  upon  courage  and  brains,  especially 
brains.  If  people  are  to  peruse  Nature  with 
virile  and  keen  intelligence — and  by  Nature 
Meredith  seems  to  mean  the  whole  system  of 
accessible  facts  and  forces  within  and  around 
the  human  consciousness — an  open  eye  and 
unflinching  sincerity  are  required  ;  hence  the 
earliest  symptom  of  philosophy  in  man  is 
aversion  to  sentimentalism,  in  the  guise  either 
of  self-pity  or  Byronic  melancholy  or  contempt 
for  the  world.  Attempts  to  cheat  Nature 
by  ignoring  the  flesh,  for  example,  are  not 
much  less  mischievous  than  the  tendency  to 
idolize  it.  Asceticism  and  sensuality  alike,  he 
is  careful  to  point  out,  rest  upon  a  common 
basis  of  sentimentalism,  which  is  fundament- 
ally onesided  and  consequently  vicious ; 
and  no  reader  of  "The  Egoist"  is  likely  to 
forget  the  merciless  exposure  of  a  pseudo- 
Puritanism  which  in  aesthetic  and  aristocratic 
superiority  bans  the  rough,  wholesome  world. 
Sex  and  the  senses  have  their  place  some- 
where in  the  moral  order,  and  it  is  always  a 
grateful  service  to  have  the  truth  enunciated 
32 


Introduction 

afresh  that  Nature  with  her  plain  and  bracing 
laws  cannot  be  misjudged  or  undervalued  by 
any  man,  however  civilized,  with  impunity. 
That  applies  to  enigmas  as  well  as  to  aspira- 
tions. "We  do  not  get  to  any  heaven  by  re- 
nouncing the  Mother  we  spring  from;  and 
when  there  is  an  eternal  secret  for  us,  it  is 
best  to  believe  that  Earth  knows,  to  keep  near 
her,  even  in  our  utmost  aspirations."  Thus 
Meredith  finds  but  empty  flashes  in  the  sham 
spiritualism,  so  characteristic  of  the  early 
Victorian  age,  which  affects  in  prudery  or 
piety  to  obliterate  the  physical.  To  stigmatize 
it  is  senseless  ;  to  decorously  conceal  it  is 
hypocrisy  and  in  the  long  run — though  some- 
times the  run  is  not  very  long — sheer  cruelty. 
The  natural  precedes  the  spiritual,  which 
invariably  presupposes  it.  "Nature,  though 
heathenish,  reaches  at  her  best  to  the  footstool 
of  the  Highest.  Through  Nature  only  can 
we  ascend.  St.  Simeon  saw  the  Hog  in 
Nature,  and  took  Nature  for  the  Hog."  But 
if  this  uglier  under-side  of  things  has  to  be 
reckoned  with  in  philosophy  and  practice, 
without  dainty  shudders,  it  is  wholly  mis- 
conceived by  those  who  regard  it  callously. 
33 


George  Meredith 

There  is  no  vulgar  realism  in  Meredith.  He 
stands  remote  from  the  voluptuousness  of  the 
early  Swinburne  and  from  the  strange  acqui- 
escence in  man's  earthly  bias  which  recurs, 
sadly  or  savagely,  in  Thomas  Hardy.  A  strong 
Rabelaisian  love  of  wine  and  prizefighting 
and  the  like,  running  even  to  the  verge  of 
grossness,  pervades  some  of  his  pages ;  but 
you  are  seldom  allowed  out  of  hearing  of  his 
own  adages  that  "the  mistake  of  the  world  is 
to  think  happiness  possible  to  the  senses,"  and 
that  "all  life  is  a  lesson  that  we  live  to  enjoy 
but  in  the  spirit."  With  this  proviso,  it  may 
be  fairly  said  that  uncompromising  reality  is 
the  supreme  note  of  his  ethic ;  a  note  echoed 
by  the  one  poet  of  our  own  day  who  ap- 
proaches Meredith  upon  this  plane — I  mean 
Mr.  William  Ernest  Henley.  Glough  is  as 
sincere  in  resenting  the  habit  of  playing 
tricks  with  the  soul,  but  his  sincerity  is 
practically  helpless.  The  sum  of  Meredith's 
deliverance  is  that  you  are  stepping  down  not 
up,  if  you  are  amiably  taking  opium  in  the 
soul  or  singing  lullabies  to  the  brain,  instead 
of  resolutely  facing  the  web  of  cause  and  con- 
sequence in  their  real,  actual  proportions. 
34 


Introduction 

Failure  to  see  this  elementary  principle,  he 
attributes  not  inaccurately  to  cowardice, 
which  is  simply  a  form  of  mental  blindness. 
And  when  conscience  is  only  a  passenger, 
with  the  passions  and  prejudices  working  the 
vessel,  and  the  brain  a  prisoner  in  the  state- 
cabin,  the  uncertainty  of  the  future  merely 
consists  of  the  variety  of  ways  in  which  the 
final  disaster  may  arrive.  '*  Resolution,"  we 
are  told,  "is  a  form  of  light,  our  native  light 
in  this  dubious  world."  The  worst  charge 
against  sentimentalism  is  that  it  festers  a  flabby, 
stupid  character,  in  which  courage,  the  cour- 
age of  veracity,  is  melted  away. 

Thanks  to  their  conventional  training,  at 
least  in  the  earlier  Victorian  periods  at  which 
Meredith's  novels  began  to  appear,  women 
especially  are  apt  to  find  themselves  from 
time  to  time  in  a  trying  situation,  before  or 
after  marriage,  where  they  are  hampered  or 
put  in  a  somewhat  false  position.  Meredith 
is  never  weary  of  depicting  such  phases  of 
experience,  in  which  moral  courage  is  the  one 
path  to  safety  (not  to  say,  honour),  and  yet 
often  the  least  obvious  or  easy  resource  open 
to  "those  artificial  creatures  called  women 
35 


George  Meredith 

who  dare  not  be  spontaneous,  and  cannot  act 
independently  if  they  would  continue  to  be 
admirable  in  the  world's  eye."  They  have  to 
avoid  motion, in  order  "to  avoid  shattering  or 
tarnishing."  That  is  perhaps  why  his  heroines, 
like  some  of  George  Eliot's,  annoy  us  by  the 
marriages  they  make.  Meredith's  ideal  is  a 
clear-sighted,  free,  and  sensible  womanhood, 
and  he  has  a  rude  contempt  for  the  weak, 
clinging,  girl  and  her  emotional  delights. 
The  bevy  of  girls,  mainly  English,  who  con- 
stitute one  of  the  most  charming  features 
in  his  fiction,  are  no  "wandering  vessels 
crying  for  a  pilot,"  but  healthy,  open-eyed 
mates.  What  a  splendid  company  they  are  ! 
Besides  Renee  and  Ottilia,  you  live  with 
Diana  Warwick,  Cecilia  Halkett,  Jenny 
Denham,  Clara  Middleton  ("  the  dainty  rogue 
in  porcelain  "),  Rose  Jocelyn,  Emilia,  Aminta, 
Carinthia  ("the  haggard  Venus"),  Julia  Rip- 
penger,  Elizabeth  Ople,  Nesta  Radnor, 
Annette,  and  Jane  Ilchester — 

A  troop  of  maids,  brown  as  burnt 
heather-bells, 

And  rich  with  life  as  moss-roots 
breathe  of  earth, 

In  the  first  plucking  of  them. 
36 


Introduction 

For  the  womanhood  of  his  women,  in  their 
passage  from  girlhood  to  maturity  and  in  their 
relations  with  one  another  as  well  as  with 
men,  the  highest  praise  that  need  be  given  to 
Meredith  is  that' he  makes  us  think,  and  think 
without  incongruity,  of  Shakespeare.  His 
heroines  have  both  character  and  charm  ; 
they  are  fresh,  bright  creatures,  with  a  native 
bloom  upon  them,  and  he  is  versatile  enough 
to  succeed  with  other  types  ;  e.g.,  the  clever 
old  ladies,  headed  by  Lady  Eglett  and  Lady 
Camper  (in  that  little  perfect  tale  of  her  re- 
lations with  General  Ople),  or  the  stout, 
cheery*  vulgar  women  represented  by  Mrs. 
Berry,  Mrs.  Grickeldon,  and  the  inimitable 
Mrs.  Chump,  who  rank  with  the  nurse  in 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet."  It  is  only  another  taste 
of  his  fine  quality,  in  the  reading  of  woman, 
which  the  reader  finds  in  the  mischievous 
etchings  of  the  Countess  de  Saldar,  or  of 
Li  via  and  Henrietta  in  "  The  Amazing  Marri- 
age," the  Misses  Pole — especially  Cornelia — 
and  the  feminine  pariahs  in  "Richard  Feverel" 
and  "One  of  Our  Conquerors."  Per  contra, 
Meredith  has  a  Brontesque  antipathy  to  the 
"  veiled,  virginal  dolly-heroine  "  of  ordinary 
37 


George  Meredith 

fiction,  just  as  he  shows  little  regard  for  those 
who  fling  over  the  traces  of  their  sex  to 
"trot  upon  the  borders  of  the  Epicene." 
Start  women  on  that  track,  and  it  is  a  race- 
course ending  in  a  precipice.  His  golden  hope 
seems  to  be  a  witty,  charming  woman,  of  clear 
intellect  and  free  [movement,  yielding  not  a 
feather  of  her  womanliness  for  some  portion 
of  man's  strength.  If  Beauchamp,  we  may 
guess,  was  his  own  favourite  hero,  Diana 
Warwick  embodies  most  of  the  feminine 
qualities  which  he  desiderates.  The  "  Ballad 
of  Fair  Ladies  in  Revolt "  is  sufficient  proof 
that  he  was  in  full  sympathy  with  the  modern 
reaction  of  woman  against  the  conventional 
restraints  of  a  position  which  was  generally 
disposed  to  treat  her  as  a  sort  of  fringe  upon 
human  nature,  or  a  creature  bound  to  go  in 
bit  and  blinkers.  Nevertheless,  respect  for 
her  is  assumed  as  a  test  of  social  health.  It  is 
the  civilization,  not  the  abolition,  of  marriage 
which  her  best  friends  will  advocate.  Any- 
thing less,  however  specious,  means  a  dance 
to  dissolution.  There  are  a  dozen  passages 
in  Meredith  which  indicate  this  cardinal  idea 
of  his  social  ethics.  Consistently  upon  the 
38 


Introduction 

side  of  women  in  their  demand  for  a  fuller 
scope,  instead  of  being  forced  to  "march  and 
think  in  step,  the  hard-drilled  Prussians  of 
society,"  he  is  as  resolutely  against  any  wild, 
crude  claim  for  rights  which  would  ignore  the 
individual  quality  of  woman  or  obliterate  the 
natural  distinctions  of  sex.  He  would  pro- 
bably have  refused  to  join  Ibsen  in  shaking 
down  the  pillars  of  conventional  society. 
Samson  is  not  his  model  in  reform.  His  policy 
rather  is  lustily  to  drive  out  the  Philistines 
from  the  temple.  Naturally,  "the  ancient 
game  of  two,"  which  ends  or  at  least  develops 
in  marriage,  can  hardly  fail  to  form  a  cen- 
tral problem  for  any  writer  who  deals  with 
the  bases  of  modern  society  ;  and  Meredith's 
triumph  is  that  upon  this  ground  he  has 
created  women  who  have  brains  and  judg- 
ment, yet  are  women  to  the  core.  What  are 
the  "  Maid  of  Air  "  and  the  "  Grace  of  Clay  " 
compared  to  the  loveliness  of  the  truly  natural 
woman  filled  with  God's  fire  ?  He  is  neither 
for  Lesbia  nor  for  Beatrice,  neither  for 
Aspasia  nor  for  Hypatia ;  his  quarrel  with 
the  average  man  on  behalf  of  woman  is  that 
she  is  wronged  by  having  false  demands  made 
39 


George  Meredith 

of  her,  being  usually  expected  to  form  some 
sort  of  accompaniment  to  a  tune  played  by 
the  lordly  male.  Vittoria's  wit  and  courage, 
for  example,  are  missed  by  Carlo  Ammiani 
after  marriage  ;  she  is  but  "a  little  boat  tied 
to  a  big  ship,"  and  even  Nevil  Beauchamp 
smiles  at  the  idea  of  a  pretty  woman  exercis- 
ing her  mind  independently,  much  less  moving 
him  to  examine  his  own.  Meredith's  indig- 
nant heart  is  surely  in  Diana  Warwick's 
epigram,  "Men  may  have  rounded  Seraglio 
Point ;  they  have  not  yet  doubled  Gape  Turk." 
"What  Nature  originally  decreed,"  he  said 
once,  "men  are  but  beginning  to  see,  namely, 
that  women  are  fitted  for  most  of  the  avenues 
open  to  energy,  and  by  their  entering  upon 
active  life  they  will  no  longer  be  open  to  the 
accusation  men  so  frequently  bring  against 
them  of  being  narrow  and  craven." 

In  their  loves,  enthusiasms,  and  appetites 
Meredith  likens  women  somewhere  to  boys, 
and  it  would  be  tempting  to  enlarge  on  his 
boys — another  of  the  conspicuous  successes  in 
his  work,  possibly  because  (when  unspoiled) 
boys  exhibit  a  nonchalant,  fresh,  unsentimen- 
tal attitude  to  things  in  general.  Fortunately, 

40 


Introduction 

anyone  who  knows  Meredith  knows  Heriot, 
Temple,  little  Gollett,  and  Ripton,  as  he 
knows  Sam  Weller  or  the  rustics  in  Thomas 
Hardy's  novels.  We  must  be  content  to  take 
boys  farther  on  in  their  career. 

*'The  chief  object  in  life,  if  happiness  be 
the  aim  and  the  growing  better  than  we  are, 
is  to  teach  men  and  women  how  to  be  one ; 
for  if  they're  not,  then  each  is  a  morsel  for 
the  other  to  prey  on."  Absorbed  in  this 
dilemma  of  the  sexes,  Meredith  concentrates 
his  efforts,  not  only  on  man's  treatment  of 
woman,  but  on  man's  ideal  of  himself.  One 
of  his  real  contributions  to  social  ethics  is  the 
analysis  of  the  true  gentleman,  particularly 
in  "  Evan  Harrington "  and  "Sandra  Belloni." 
As  an  observer  of  English  society,  he  has  only 
derision  for  false  gentility,  an  antipathy 
which,  like  the  enthusiasm  for  prizefighting 
and  gipsies,  he  shares  with  George  Borrow. 
Upon  the  other  hand,  he  evidently  seeks  to 
destroy  the  prevalent  delusion  that  good  nature 
is  a  form  of  weakness  and  "strength"  to  be 
measured  by  self-assertion.  He  is  strong  in 
heroes,  but  they  are  of  an  original  type.  The 
flamboyant,  brilliant  man  seldom  comes  to 
41 


George  Meredith 

much  in  Meredith's  romances.  Self-confident, 
young  characters  generally  drop  into  disaster, 
from  Alvan  to  Victor  Radnor,  in  a  sense  from 
Nevil  Beauchamp  to  Lord  Fleetwood.  The 
quiet,  strong,  trustworthy  nature,  again,  gets 
a  far  larger  stroke  in  Meredith  than  (for 
example)  in  Thackeray.  Major  Dobbin  and 
Warrington  win  nothing  like  the  reward  that 
falls  to  such  men  as  Redworth,  Merthyr 
Powys,  Dartrey  Fenellan,  Austin  Wentworth, 
Seymour  Austin,  Owain  Wythan,  Vernon 
Whitford,  and  Matthew  Weyburn.  They  lack 
or  at  any  rate  are  outshone  in  social  arts  and 
graces,  but  they  possess  solid  qualities  that 
manage  somehow  to  bring  them  out  success- 
ful in  the  end.  Impetuousness  and  bubbling 
ardour  play  the  rocket's  career  in  Meredith. 
His  avowed  partiality  is  for  the  drab  men — 
"drab"  being  the  antithesis  of  "effervescing" 
and  "irrepressible" — for  men  of  deep,  self- 
controlled  natures,  who  refuse  lightly  to  kindle 
at  the  spark  of  personal  ambition,  and  who — 
above  all — will  not  stoop  to  regard  women  as 
objects  upon  which  to  practise  daintily  the 
fowler's  art.  Clean,  brave,  unselfish  and  intel- 
ligent are  Meredith's  high  adjectives  for  man. 
42 


Introduction 

These  ideals  of  womanhood  and  manhood 
run  up  into  Meredith's  general  conception  of 
human  nature  as  part  of  Nature.  The  latter 
conception  is  developed  principally  in  his 
poetry,  but  it  underlies  his  prose,  and  the 
novels  cannot  be  intelligently  read  apart  from 
some  grasp  of  what  he  means  by  the  Earth  or 
Nature.  It  is  not  a  mere  accessory  to  human 
life  and  feeling,  a  background  to  be  painted 
in,  by  way  of  contrast  or  harmony.  Meredith's 
Nature  is,  as  in  Aristotle — to  quote  Professor 
Butcher's  definition — ,  "not  the  outward  world 
of  created  things;  it  is  the  creative  force,  the 
productive  principle  of  the  universe."  Nature 
in  these  novels  and  poems  is  vital,  radiant, 
and  supreme,  a  living  presence  which  re- 
minds us  of  the  pulsing,  all-embracing  Nature 
of  Lucretius,  and,  in  certain  other  aspects,  of 
Nature  as  the  expression  and  embodiment  of 
that  divine  wisdom  for  man  which  Marcus 
Aurelius  inculcated.  The  distinctive  value 
of  Meredith's  teaching  on  this  point,  how- 
ever, is  that  nature  is  for  him  deeper  and 
more  complex  than  it  could  be  for  the  ancient 
stoics.  His  Nature  is  the  cosmos  of  evolu- 
tionary science.  "The  Ordeal  of  Richard 
43 


George  Meredith 

Feverel,"  as  we  have  seen,  was  published  in 
the  same  year  as  "The  Origin  of  Species," 
and  the  salient  feature  of  Meredith's  work  is 
that  it  has  been  carried  out  in  full  view  of  the 
contemporary  scientific  movement  which 
seeks  in  Nature  the  ethical  standards  as  well 
as  the  physical  origin  of  man.  The  cardinal 
principle  of  his  ethical  idealism  is  the 
trustworthiness  of  the  moral  instincts.  Nat- 
ure is  a  living  organism,  whose  end  for  man 
is  spiritual,  not  material,  and  human  life  is 
unintelligible  apart  from  its  relationship  to 
natural  facts  and  forces.  Life  according  to 
Nature  is  man's  destiny,  which  means,  not  the 
worship  of  the  senses,  nor  the  ascetic  denial 
of  the  senses,  but  the  spirit's  control  of  the 
senses.  The  end  of  Nature  is  man's  ethical 
completeness.  Neither  the  mind,  nor  the 
senses,  nor  the  soul,  is  to  be  starved,  but  each 
and  all  must  play  their  part  in  the  drama  of 
being. 

"  Blood  and  brain  and  spirit,  three 
Join  for  true  felicity. 
Are  they  parted,  then  expect 
Some  one  sailing  will  be  wrecked." 

The  beginning  of  wisdom,  therefore,  is  to 

44 


Introduction 

let  Nature  reach  and  teach  us ;  otherwise  it  is 
not  possible  to  perceive  man's  ideal  or  the 
conditions  under  which  it  can  be  realised. 
This  requires  courage,  for  self  and  the  senses 
render  man  disinclined  to  face  and  welcome 
the  total  order  of  Nature. 

"The  senses  loving  Earth  or  well  or  ill 

Ravel  yet  more  the  riddle  of  our  lot. 

The  mind  is  in  their  trammels." 
Most  forms  of  contemporary  pessimism  and 
sentimentalism  are  traced  by  Meredith  to  this 
handicap — the  refusal  to  confront  the  order  of 
Nature  frankly  and  fully.  Only  the  mind  or 
brain  is  equal  to  this  task.  If  a  man  dares 
to  face  and  trust  Nature,  he  is  rewarded  with 
hope  and  insight.  If  he  does  not,  his  view  of 
the  world  and  of  himself  is  distorted.  Thus 
— to  take  but  one  example — cynicism  is  bound 
up  with  a  false  view  of  Nature.  "You  hate 
Nature,"  says  Gower  Woodseer  to  the  cynical 
Lord  Fleetwood,  "unless  you  have  it  served 
on  a  dish  by  your  own  cook.  That's  the  way 
to  the  madhouse  or  the  monastery.  There  we 
expiate  the  sin  of  sins.  A  man  finds  the 
woman  of  all  women  fitted  to  stick  him  in  the 
soil,  and  trim  and  point  him  to  grow,  and 
45 


George  Meredith 

she 's  an  animal  for  her  pains !  The  secret  of 
your  malady  is,  you  Ve  not  yet,  though  you  're 
on  the  healthy  leap  for  the  practices  of  Nature, 
hopped  to  the  primary  conception  of  what 
Nature  means.  Women  are  in  and  of  Nat- 
ure." False  views  of  oneself,  as  well  as  of 
the  other  sex,  whether  these  views  are  ascetic 
or  sensual,  proceed  from  the  same  root, 
according  to  Meredith.  A  primary  concep- 
tion of  Nature  is  a-wanting. 

This  primary  conception  involves  not  only 
a  just  relation  of  the  sexes  but  their  common 
interest  in  self-sacrifice,  brotherliness,  and 
unselfishness.  Nature's  supreme  function  is 
to  recall  her  children  from  their  moods  of 
indulgence  and  egotism  to  the  higher  discipline 
of  helpfulness.  The  great  thing  to  think 
about,  Meredith  reiterates,  is  not  reaping  but 
sowing  (compare,  e.g.,  the  fifth  chapter  of 
"Lord  Ormont  and  his  Aminta,"  and  "Vit- 
toria"  throughout).  His  passionate  recoil  from 
anything  like  luxurious  individualism,  and  his 
stress  on  human  fellowship  as  the  true  sphere 
of  Nature's  revelation,  spring  from  his  reading 
of  her  primary  law — the  law  of  sacrifice  and 
service.  Nature's  crown  and  flower  is  man, 
46 


Introduction 

but  man  conscious  that  personality  means 
kinship  and  helpfulness  to  his  fellows.  As 
the  author  puts  it,  in  Vittoria's  ringing  stanza 
at  Milan : 

Our  life  is  but  a  little  holding,  lent 

To  do  a  mighty  labour ;  we  are  one 
With  heaven  and  with  the  stars,  when 

it  is  spent 
To  serve  God's  aim:   else  die  we 

with  the  sun. 

"Service,"  said  Diana  Warwick,  "is  our  des- 
tiny in  life  and  death.  Then  let  it  be  my 
choice,  living  to  serve  the  living,  and  be  fret- 
ted uncomplainingly." 

The  joy  of  Earth  belongs  to  those  who  thus 
enter  intelligently  and  bravely  into  the  order 
of  her  discipline,  which  aims  at  speeding  the 
race  upwards  to  God  and  good.  This  is  the 
burden  of  Meredith's  philosophy,  and  it  lifts 
him  clear  of  any  languid  or  defiant  or  sus- 
picious attitude  towards  Nature.  He  has  a 
coherent,  balanced  view  of  human  nature; 
he  believes  that  men  are  meant  for  good ;  and 
he  is  sure  that  Nature  or  the  universe  is  on 
their  side  in  the  struggle  against  lust  and  pas- 
sion.  "I  say  the  profoundest  service  that 
47 


George  Meredith 

poems  or  any  other  writings  can  do  for 
their  reader  is  not  merely  to  satisfy  the  intel- 
lect, or  supply  something  polished  and  inter- 
esting, nor  even  to  depict  great  passions 
or  persons  or  events,  but  to  fill  him  with 
vigorous  and  clean  manliness,  religiousness, 
and  give  him  good  heart  as  a  radical  possession 
and  habit."  That  sentence  of  Walt  Whitman 
sums  up  the  drift  of  Meredith's  prose  as  well 
as  of  his  verse.  There  is  not  a  whimper  in  it, 
not  an  atom  of  cowardice.  He  invigorates 
the  reader  while  he  amuses.  And  he  does  so, 
claiming  to  present  the  right  order  and  use  of 
life,  because  he  has  read  Earth  deep  enough 
to  see  the  rose  of  the  soul  unfold  itself  bravely 
under  the  grey  skies  of  evolutionary  science. 
The  novels  testify  to  this  conviction  in  grave, 
buoyant,  and  energetic  prose.  They  are 
studies  in  several  types  of  human  character, 
tragic  and  comic,  designed  to  expound  the 
bracing  philosophy  of  Nature  as  that  is  inter- 
preted by  the  Spirit  of  Comedy  (in  the 
Meredithian  sense  of  the  term),  which  is  "the 
fountain  of  sound  sense,  not  the  less  perfectly 
sound  on  account  of  the  sparkle." 
Novels  written  in  this  vein  cannot  fail 
48 


Introduction 

to  have  a  keen  interest  and  value  of  their 
own,  but  it  is  superfluous  to  observe  that 
their  appeal  is  to  a  circle  which  must  be 
comparatively  restricted.  This  subtle,  in- 
tellectual treatment  of  human  nature  in  prose 
fiction,  through  the  medium  of  the  "Comic 
Spirit,"  addresses  itself  to  people  of  sharp 
perception  and  sensitive  faculties,  even 
when  the  subjects  are  by  no  means  recon- 
dite in  themselves.  A  writer  like  Meredith 
finds  his  audience  as  well  as  his  material,  not 
in  the  marketplace,  but  in  a  society  of  quick- 
witted, cultured  beings.  A  certain  nimble- 
ness  of  mind  is  requisite  for  the  appreciation 
of  his  work,  and  this  implies,  as  he  is  well 
aware,  that  his  audience  constitutes  "an  acute 
and  honourable  minority."  For  the  crowd 
prefers  to  be  thumped  rather  than  tickled, 
and  resents  fiction  being  ranked  as  an  elect 
handmaiden  to  philosophy. 

Thanks  to  his  high  conception  of  the 
English  novel  and  its  function,  Meredith 
makes  little  or  no  attempt  to  catch  the 
multitude  with  broad  effects,  high  colours, 
or  strong  flavours.  His  work  has  an  extra- 
ordinary range.  But,  like  Diana  Warwick, 

49 


George  Meredith 

he  does  not  lay  himself  out  as  a  writer  for 
"clever  transcripts  of  the  dialogue  of  the 
day,  and  hairbreadth  escapes,"  breathless  ad- 
ventures, gushing  sentiment,  and  the  ooze 
of  pathos.  Consequently  the  atmosphere  is 
somewhat  rarefied  at  times.  Certainly  it 
cannot  be  described  as  wholly  congenial  to 
the  average  Briton,  an  excellent  person  who 
commonly  prefers  blunt,  hard  satire,  humour 
with  its  i's  dotted  and  its  t's  carefully  crossed. 
As  Meredith  himself  confesses  genially,  "the 
national  disposition  is  for  hard-hitting  with 
a  moral  purpose  to  sanction  it";  ethereal, 
nimble  wit  does  not  allure  the  many.  As 
handled  by  Meredith,  it  is  often  clear 
and  true.  But  it  invokes  "the  conscience 
residing  in  thoughtfulness,"  and  comedy  of 
this  kind  must  frequently  be  content  to  play  to 
empty  benches.  To  the  first  edition  of 
"Modern  Love"  he  prefixed  the  lines: 
"This  is  not  meat 

For  little  people  or  for  fools." 
Unfortunately  it  is  apt  to  become  food  for 
a  cult  or  coterie,  which  is  a  serious  handicap 
upon  any  writer. 

So  far  as  an  author's  refusal  to  be  simple  is 
50 


Introduction 

wilful  and  affected,  the  public  revenges  itself 
by  visiting  him  with  an  unworthy  but  not 
undeserved  neglect.  Now,  two  spirits  struggle 
for  the  soul  of  Meredith  as  a  literary  artist. 
There  is  a  lyric,  spontaneous  feeling,  which 
now  and  then  issues  in  passages  of  direct 
intuition  and  unaffected  charm,  vibrating  with 
emotion  and  pure  fancy.  Meredith  has  his 
"native  woodnotes  wild";  and  they  are  by  no 
means  confined  to  his  prose,  as  readers  of 
poems  like  "Juggling  Jerry"  and  "Love  in  a 
Valley"  (especially  in  its  original  version)  will 
gladly  testify.  Along  with  this,  however,  a 
spirit  of  strain  and  affectation  makes  itself 
heard.  There  is  a  tone  of  painful  artifice  in 
him,  of  which  e.g.  "Modern  Love,"  the 
later  odes,  and  "  One  of  Our  Conquerors" 
bear  melancholy  traces.  Whole  pages  of 
Meredith's  work  are  spoiled  by  a  passion  for 
the  intricate.  It  is  as  though  he  were  fascina- 
ted by  anything  off  the  high  road :  complex 
motives,  tangled  situations,  abstruse  points  of 
conduct.  "In  Our  fat  England,"  he  pleads 
unabashed,  "the  gardener  Time  is  playing  all 
sorts  of  delicate  freaks  in  the  hues  and 
traceries  of  the  flower  of  life,  and  shall  we  not 
51 


George  Meredith 

note  them?  If  we  are  to  understand  our 
species,  and  mark  the  progress  of  civilization 
at  all,  we  must."  To  which  one  would  be 
inclined  to  answer  not  by  a  simple  negative 
but  by  drawing  distinctions,  and  especially 
by  demurring  to  the  implication  that  twists 
and  freaks  are  anything  but  a  subordinate 
element  in  average  human  existence.  To 
Meredith,  in  fact,  the  flower  of  life  is  an 
orchid  oftener  than  a  lily  of  the  field.  His 
predilection  for  subtle  shades  and  traceries 
tends  to  present  ordinary  life  to  him  as  morally 
exotic.  His  creative  imagination  redeems 
him,  certainly ;  the  natural  sights  and 
sounds  that  fill  his  pages  protect  the  reader 
generally  against  any  prolonged  sense  of 
artificiality.  I  would  not  go  nearly  so  far  as 
to  say  that  nothing  seems  to  interest  him 
strongly  except  "derangement,  the  imper- 
ceptible grain  of  sand  that  sets  the  whole 
mechanism  out  of  gear."  That  is  true,  but  it 
is  not  all  the  truth,  although  one  can  readily 
understand  how  a  case  for  this  verdict  could 
be  strongly  and  unfairly  stated,  if  critics 
persist  in  remaining  blind  to  the  fact  that  the 
dramatic  motif  in  a  novel  of  Meredith  is 
52 


Introduction 

really  never  far-fetched.  Its  variations  and 
developement,  however,  often  are.  "The 
light  of  every  soul  burns  upward ;  let  us  allow 
for  atmospheric  disturbance."  This  would  be 
an  adequate  defence,  were  it  not  that  in  ex- 
patiating upon  the  allowance  and  watchfully 
detecting  the  whirl  of  motes  within  the  beam, 
he  now  and  then  seems  clean  to  forget  that 
he  has  a  taper  needing  his  attention. 

The  difficulty  is  aggravated  by  his  fondness 
for  developing  a  story  by  diverting  allusions 
rather  than  by  plain  straightforward  narrative. 
It  is  a  vexatious  and  often  an  inartistic  method. 
Meredith  has  usually  a  story  to  tell,  and 
plenty  of  emotion  and  adventure  wherewith 
to  carry  it  forward.  Only,  you  must  go  be- 
hind the  booth  and  see  the  showman'working 
his  puppets.  The  result  is  that  the  characters 
are  not  always  kept  at  blood-heat,  while  the 
impatient  spectator's  interest  is  first  divided 
and  then  apt  to  flag.  In  reading  some  of  the 
novels  for  the  first  time  you  feel  like  a  small 
man  in  a  crowd,  when  some  procession  is 
passing — bewildered  and  aggrieved.  Colour 
and  movement  are  there ;  but  they  are  neither 
coherent  nor  made  obvious  to  you.  In  a 
53 


George  Meredith 

more  poetical  figure,  the  stream  of  narrative 
is  so  overlaid  at  some  places  with  lilies  of 
comment  and  aphorism,  that  the  current  is 
seriously  impeded  and  the  flow  of  water 
almost  hidden.  No  doubt  the  lilies  are  fresh 
and  splendid  ;  but  that  is  hardly  the  point 
at  issue.  The  novelist  is  conscious  of  his  fault. 
He  is  constantly  pausing,  especially  in  the 
later  novels,  to  apologise  for  the  intrusion  of 
the  philosopher  upon  the  artist  and  for  the 
marriage  of  comedy  and  narrative,  but  his 
contrite  excuses  remind  one  too  vividly  of 
FalstafFs.  The  habit  seems  too  strong  for 
him.  Partly  it  is  a  defect  of  his  intense  in- 
tellectualism  ;  partly  it  is  one  consequence  of 
his  analytic  principle  thai  the  ideas  rather 
than  the  appetites  of  men  form  the  best  clue 
to  their  conduct.  But  in  any  case  he  is  open 
to  severe  criticism  upon  this  point  of  technical 
execution.  Like  all  mannerisms  it  has  probably 
been  aggravated  by  the  partial  obscurity  in 
which  the  author  had  for  long  to  work. 
Absence  of  popular  recognition  upon  a  scale 
commensurate  to  a  man's  ability  is  apt  to 
foster  any  innate  tendency  to  mental  perversi- 
ties, just  as  the  bodily  gestures  of  a  recluse 

54 


Introduction 

acquire  insensibly  a  certain  uncouth  awkward- 
ness ;  and  Meredith  is  not  wholly  to  be 
acquitted  of  the  artistic  crime  of  eccentricity. 
Isolation  here  also  has  intensified  an  inborn 
freakishness  of  manner.  "Mystic  wrynesses 
he  chased."  No  one  would  insist  upon  a 
novel  of  the  highest  rank  furnishing  the 
precise  details  of  a  reporting  column;  yet 
how  few  of  Meredith's  romances  would  have 
been  spoiled  by  the  omission  of  some  dis- 
quisitions upon  mental  pathology,  and  by  the 
introduction  of  a  little  plain  information  about 
what  exactly  has  been  and  is  being  done  !  Is 
it  only  the  "happy  bubbling  fool "  who  desires 
to  know  the  progress  as  well  as  the  causes  of 
events  ?  In  "  Diana  of  the  Crossways,"  for 
example  (as  in  the  "Amazing  Marriage"),  the 
opening  chapter  is  devoted  to  a  delightful 
preliminary  talk,  full  of  clever  hints,  anticipa- 
tions, side  allusions  and  the  like,  which 
certainly  create  an  interest  and  atmosphere 
for  the  subsequent  tale.  But  it  is  only  in 
Chapter  II.  that  the  story  plunges  from  ex- 
position of  feelings  and  gossip  into  the  gay 
whirl  of  an  Irish  ball.  "  Let  us  to  our  story," 
says  the  author  coolly,  "  the  froth  being  out  of 

55 


George  Meredith 

the  bottle."    But  surely  the  froth  should  be 
out  of  the  bottle  before  it  is  held  to  the  lips ! 

Admittedly  the  novelist  is  never  feverish 
or  fragmentary  in  manner,  never  a  wayward 
visionary  even  in  his  exalted  moments, 
never  prolix  or  laborious  in  the  sense 
in  which  George  Eliot  occasionally  plays 
the  pedant,  almost  never  ornate  or  irrele- 
vant like  Balzac  with  his  descriptions  of 
locality  and  furniture.  But  as  a  composer 
he  has  a  dangerous  endowment  of  fertility, 
and  one  would  rather  that  his  affinities  had 
been  with  any  school  except  the  German, 
from  which — headed  by  Jean  Paul  Richter — 
it  is  not  inapposite  to  conjecture  that  he  has 
caught  an  inartistic  forgetfulness  of  the  bound- 
aries that  separate  the  essay  and  the  romance. 
One  is  glad  to  have  Hazlitt's  countenance 
in  finding  the  similar  passages  in  Meredith's 
prototype,  Molifcre,  somewhat  verbose  and 
intricate ;  they  are  that,  even  when  in  the 
one  case  they  are  carried  off  by  the  rapid 
dialogue  in  verse,  in  the  other  by  the  flashing 
prose.  At  the  worst  they  are  never  opaque 
or  muddy — which  is  always  something.  But 
the  trouble  about  these  diverting  and  ingenious 
56 


Introduction 

asides  is  that  Meredith  knows  better.  If  he 
likes,  and  fortunately  he  often  likes,  he  can 
give  his  readers  Stevenson's  luxury  of  laying 
aside  the  judgment  and  being  submerged  by 
the  tale  as  by  a  billow.  The  pity  of  it  is  that  he 
prefers  now  and  again  to  keep  your  head 
prosaically  safe  above  the  water,  while  he 
expounds  to  you  in  witty  words  the  sequence 
of  the  tides. 

A  passion  for  the  bizarre  in  action  or  char- 
acter, accompanied  by  a  preoccupation  with 
the  integral  calculus  of  motives,  is  not  un- 
fitly set  in  a  compressed  form  of  utterance 
which  is  rich  to  the  point  of  obscurity. 
Meredith's  style  reflects  his  mental  temper 
of  keen,  pregnant  observation.  It  is  terse 
and  quick  and  brilliant;  but  it  has  a  tendency, 
where  inspiration  flags,  to  lapse  now  and 
then  into  euphuism,  extravagance,  over- 
subtlety.  It  has  oftener  the  flashing  edge  of 
crystals  than  limpid  fluidity.  Language  be- 
comes with  him  in  certain  moods  a  shower  of 
audacious  and  prismatic  epigrams,  or  "a 
flushed  Bacchanal  in  a  ring  of  dancing 
similes."  There  is  little  or  none  of  Swin- 
burne's riot  in  verbiage,  or  of  Ruskin's 
57 


George  Meredith 

billowy  rhetoric.  The  writer  seems  nervously 
and  even  awkwardly  to  avoid  all  approaches 
to  smooth  and  flexible  expression.  The  style  is 
difficult,  but  through  sheer  excess  of  thought, 
not  through  confusion.  It  is  never  plush, 
though  too  frequently  it  becomes  brocade, 
rather  than  the  silk  which  closely  fits  the 
limbs.  Stiff  in  parts,  though  jewelled,  it  is 
apt  to  hang  in  somewhat  rigid  folds.  There  are 
passages  of  his  poetry,  for  example,  compared 
to  which  Sordello  and  Pacchiarotto  are  trans- 
cripts of  lucidity. 

Some  of  the  common  clamour  about  Mere- 
dith's style,  however,  is  due  to  intellectual 
torpidity.  Years  ago  Mark  Pattison  observed 
that  Meredith's  name  was  "a  label  warning 
'novel  readers'  not  to  touch.  They  know 
that  in  the  volumes  which  carry  that  mark 
they  will  not  find  the  comfortable  convention- 
alities and  the  paste  diamonds  which  make 
up  their  ideal  of  life.  Worse  than  this, 
Mr.  Meredith's  style  requires  attention ;  an 
impertinent  requirement  on  the  part  of  a 
novelist."  Some  people  also  fail  to  observe 
that  in  the  dialogues,  for  example,  he  is  true 
to  life.  Ordinary  conversation  as  a  rule 
58 


Introduction 

answers  thoughts  as  well  as  words;  it  runs 
on  a  level  where  the  speakers  address  what 
is  meant  rather  than  what  is  said.  (Readers 
of  " Rhoda  Fleming"  will  recollect  a  famous 
instance.)  Further,  one  is  very  seldom 
annoyed  in  Meredith  with  quips  and  verbal 
puzzles  or  with  disagreeable  attempts  to  paint 
in  words,  and  although  the  staccato  movement 
is  somewhat  clicking,  it  is  never  obtrusive  in 
his  readings  of  Nature  or  in  his  love-scenes. 
There  one  has  not  to  pause  and  unravel  a 
paragraph  or  disentangle  sense  from  a  sen- 
tence. The  clotted  manner  drops  away, 
confusion  and  inversion  disappear,  and  the 
result  is  a  vivid  transcript  of  reality.  For 
Meredith  is  like  the  historian,  Green,  "a  jolly 
vivid  man  ...  as  vivid  as  lightning,"  to  quote 
Tennyson's  verdict  on  the  latter.  In  repro- 
ducing subtle  shades  of  feeling  or  in  describing 
physical  impressions,  he  has  a  marvellous 
skill ;  a  handful  of  words  becomes  almost 
transparent  with  imagination  and  delicate  in- 
sight. No  doubt,  of  his  verse  in  large  sections, 
though  seldom  of  his  finer  prose,  it  is  not 
extravagant  to  say  that  "  the  aim  to  astonish 
is  greater  than  the  desire  to  charm." 
59 


George  Meredith 

"Forcible"  suits  him  better  than  "urbane"; 
" dazzling,"  as  a  rule,  better  than  "chaste" 
or  "Attic."  A  style  naturally  luminous  and 
picturesque  sails  perilously  near  the  coasts 
of  tortuous  euphuism ;  for  by  a  strange 
perversity  he  seems  upon  occasion  to 
court  the  very  foppery  of  genius,  till  one 
is  sadly  tempted  to  recall  the  tribe  of 
Donne  and  Gowley  with  their  quaint  and 
cumbersome  conceits.  Sir  Lukin  sends  a  boy 
to  run  for  news  of  the  score  at  a  cricket-match 
— "and  his  emissary  taught  lightning  a  les- 
son." That  is  Meredith  all  over,  though  his 
"euphuism"  is  adventitious  rather  than  es- 
sentially frigid  and  trivial.  Yet,  judged  by 
his  best,  and  his  best  is  the  greater  part  of  his 
output,  he  has  command  of  a  diction  almost 
unrivalled  for  its  purposes,  surging  and  full 
and  radiant.  It  is  a  pure  joy  to  read  many  of 
his  pages,  were  it  only  for  their  unflagging  wit 
and  marvellous  use  of  metaphor — that  literary 
gift  which  Aristotle  singled  out  as  a  sure  mark 
of  literary  genius.  Such  qualities  of  style  are 
the  reflection  of  mental  splendour  in  any 
writer,  and,  though  cultivated,  are  never  a 
mere  trick.  Limpid  simplicity  indeed  is  not 
60 


Introduction 

one  of  his  main  notes ;  which  is  to  be  regretted, 
as  simplicity  is  one  condition  of  vitality  in  liter- 
ature. He  tends  to  be  elliptic  and — in  a  good 
sense — embroidered,  in  language.  In  musical 
phrase  there  is  more  harmony  and  orchestra- 
tion than  melody  in  parts  of  his  work ;  he  is, 
perhaps,  the  Berlioz  of  modern  prose-fiction  in 
this  country.  But  he  has  melody  as  well  as 
counterpoint.  The  supreme  qualities  of  bril- 
liant phrasing,  terseness  of  expression,  energy, 
exquisite  colouring,  and  luxuriant  fancy,  are 
all  conspicuous  in  his  style ;  they  rightly 
count  for  much,  and  their  wealth  covers  a 
great  multitude  of  minor  sins.  If  here  and 
there  he  deserves  the  charge  implied  in  Fal- 
staff's  retort  to  Pistol,  one  must  remember 
that,  judged  by  this  standard,  Shakespeare 
himself  falls  to  be  criticised  like  Meredith  for 
the  same  offence.  In  both  it  is  as  patent  as  it 
is — comparatively  speaking — venial.  Shakes- 
peare is  king  of  the  continent  where  Meredith 
is  a  prince  ;  and  Johnson's  famous  verdict  on 
the  Elizabethan  recurs  to  the  mind  with  curi- 
ous persistency  as  one  attempts  to  estimate  the 
Victorian.  "  A  quibble  was  to  him  the  fatal 
Cleopatra  for  which  he  lost  the  world,  and 
61 


George  Meredith 

was  content  to  lose  it.  ...  I  cannot  say  he  is 
everywhere  alike.  He  is  many  times  flat  and 
insipid.  But  he  is  always  great  when  some 
great  occasion  is  presented  to  him  ;  no  man 
can  say  he  ever  had  a  fit  subject  for  his  art 
and  did  not  then  raise  himself  as  high  above 
his  fellows,  Quantum  lenta  solent  inter  viburna 
cufiressi." 

This  slight  summary  of  some  cardinal  ideas 
in  Meredith's  fiction,  and  of  some  salient 
features  in  his  technical  method,  will  serve 
perhaps  to  put  one  en  route  with  him.  I  have 
left  myself  no  space  to  touch  upon  some  other 
fascinating  aspects,  such  as  his  cosmopolitan 
outlook,  from  which  all  insularity  is  purged  : 
his  minor  characters :  his  versatile  humour : 
his  technical  execution :  his  poetical  work- 
manship: his  relation  to  men  like  Dickens, 
Balzac,  Hugo,  and  especially  Thomas 
Hardy :  his  attitude  to  politics  and  progress : 
his  estimates  of  religion  (in  semitones, 
scanty  but  firm),  patriotism,  education,  and 
the  Celtic  temperament.  These  and  other 
lines  of  study  can  be  worked  out  from  the 
general  standpoint  which  I  have  tried  to  sug- 
gest in  this  paper.  For  the  primary  thing  to 
62 


Introduction 

be  insisted  on  with  regard  to  Meredith  is  that 
in  focussing  his  position  we  may  with  advant- 
age look  at  the  content  rather  than  the  form 
of  his  work.  It  is  only  consonant  with  his 
own  avowed  desire  that  we  should  thus  ap- 
proach him  from  the  side  of  ethics  as  well  as 
of  art,  although  no  huger  injustice  could  be 
done  to  him  than  to  claim  him  for  a  cult  or  for 
a  party,  much  less  to  convey  the  impression 
that  his  novels  are  a  species — even  a  glorified 
species — of  pamphlets.  Meredith  is  a  master 
of  literature.  Some  of  his  novels  are  triumphs 
of  creative  prose,  and — despite  their  depend- 
ence upon  a  knowledge  of  contemporary 
feeling  in  nineteenth-century  England — they 
will  rank  with  the  supreme  contributions 
of  last  century  to  English  literature,  even 
although  they  win  him  security  rather  than 
fulness  of  fame.  In  style  and  conception,  we 
may  surely  say,  without  being  Meredithy- 
rambic,  that  he  is  a  peer  of  the  few  great 
literary  artists  in  our  age.  His  line  and  colour 
belong  to  the  great  style  in  literature,  and 
three-fifths  of  his  work  is  bathed  in  what 
his  friend  Swinburne  called  "passionate  and 
various  beauty."  The  artistic  impulse  asserts 
63 


George  Meredith 

itself  in  almost  every  chapter  he  has  written, 
for  in  spite  of  the  writer's  rich  mental  con- 
stitution, his  complexity  of  material  is  rarely 
suffered  to  compromise  the  symmetry  and 
the  movement  which  are  essential  to  great- 
ness in  a  genuine  prose  romance.  Still,  any 
eulogy  of  Meredith's  intellectual  subtlety  and 
imaginative  reach — and  an  estimate  here  passes 
quickly  into  eulogy — must  be  balanced  by 
the  admission  that  prose-fiction  in  his  hands 
moves  out  into  the  strenuous  and  stirring 
tideway  of  contemporary  life  ;  he  is  highly 
serious  for  all  his  wit  and  charm,  and  he  has 
not  the  slightest  notion  of  enticing  you  into  a 
house  boat  or  a  racing  gig. 

Some  of  you  will  remember  this  prose- 
parable  by  Maarten  Maartens:  "There  was 
a  man  once — a  satirist.  In  the  natural  course 
of  time  his  friends  slew  him  and  he  died.  And 
the  people  came  and  stood  about  his  corpse. 
'He  treated  the  whole  round  world  as  his 
football, 'they  said  indignantly,  'and  he  kicked 
it.'  The  dead  man  opened  one  eye.  'But 
always  toward  the  goal,'  he  said."  Meredith 
is  no  satirist.  He  does  not  even  turn  a 
superb  and  deliberate  censor  of  the  universe 
64 


Introduction 

like  William  Morris  and  John  Ruskin ; 
though  his  aim  is  to  waken  and  to  brace  his 
age,  he  never  ostentatiously  lifts  the  scourge 
or  broom,  and  "kicking"  is  altogether  too 
coarse  and  direct  an  expression  to  denote  his 
genial  influence.  But  he  is  really  aggressive, 
in  one  sense.  He  produces  a  distinct  impact 
upon  "that  conscience  residing  in  thought- 
fulness,"  which  it  is  his  design  to  exercise 
and  to  increase.  Resent  it  or  not  as  you 
please,  what  Meredith  is  concerned  with 
is  that  you  shall  treat  the  novel  as  something 
other  than  a  brassy  or  a  bun.  To  stir  the  mind's 
interest  by  a  vital  and  varied  application  of 
"the  Comic  Spirit,"  is  the  motive  of  George 
Meredith.  He  would  make  his  prose  both 
voice  and  force.  If  readers  fling  down  his 
works  without  being  pushed  an  inch  or  two 
nearer  sanity  and  sincerity,  or  without  sus- 
pecting that  these  are  a  goal,  or  even  without 
dreaming  that  for  them  a  goal  exists  at  all, 
then  a  fault  lies  somewhere.  But  the  fault 
is  not  wholly  Meredith's. 


THE  SHAVING  OF  SHAGPAT 


The  Shaving  of  Shagpat 

THE  Shaving  of  Shagpat:  An  Arabian 
Entertainment,"  Meredith's  first  work 
in  prose,  was  published  in  1856,  five  years 
after  his  first  book  of  poems.  Beckford's 
"Vathek,"  which  had  appeared  nearly 
seventy  years  earlier,  "remained  without 
distinguished  progeny,"  says  Professor 
Raleigh.  But  "Shagpat"  is  its  late-born 
child.  It  also  draws  upon  "  The  Arabian 
Nights,"  though  Meredith  easily  outstrips 
Beckford  in  the  skill  by  which  he  has 
caught  the  discursiveness,  the  luxuriant 
fancy,  the  riot  of  imagination,  and  the  brilliant 
atmosphere  of  the  Oriental  phantasmagoria. 
Both  novels  are  written  in  high  spirits.  But 
"The  Shaving  of  Shagpat"  is  composed  in  a 
characteristic  vein  of  the  mock-heroic,  with 
touches  of  passion  and  romance  and  exuber- 
ant humour.  George  Eliot,  in  one  of  her 
reviews,  hailed  it  "as  an  apple  tree  among 
69 


George  Meredith 

the  trees  of  the  wood,"  and,  once  the  public 
grew  accustomed  to  its  puzzling  qualities, 
the  wit  and  genius  of  this  tour  de  force 
prevailed  with  its  audience,  although  a 
second  edition  was  not  called  for  until  1865. 

Three  separate  stories,  "The  Story  ot 
Bhanavar  the  Beautiful,"  "  The  Punishment 
of  Shahpesh,  the  Persian,  or  Khipil  the 
Builder,"  and  "  The  Case  of  Rumdrum,  A 
Reader  of  Planets,  that  was  a  Barber,"  are 
woven,  in  oriental  manner,  into  the  plot. 
But  the  outline  of  the  main  story  is  as 
follows : — 

Noorna  bin  Noorka,  a  waif  beside  her 
dead  mother  in  the  desert,  is  rescued  uiid 
reared  by  a  certain  chief  Raveloke  in  the 
city  of  Oolb,  where  in  her  twelfth  year  she 
obtains  from  an  old  beggar — in  return  for  a 
piece  of  gold  given  in  charity — her  heart's 
desire  in  dresses,  gems,  and  toys,  but 
especially  a  red  book  of  magic.  She  be- 
comes proficient  in  spells  and  sorcery,  owing 
to  her  eagerness  to  discover  her  father,  and 
thereby  incurs  the  jealousy  of  Princess 
Goorelka,  an  accomplished  sorceress,  whose 
genie  Karaz  eventually  manages  to  carry  off 

70 


The  Shaving  of  Shagpat 

Noorna  as  his  prize.  She  promises  to  give 
herself  to  the  possessor  of  the  Identical,  or 
hair  of  fortune,  which  was  on  his  head,  in 
return  for  his  help  in  disenchanting  her 
father.  The  latter,  Feshnavat  by  name,  is 
shown  by  Karaz  to  be  one  of  a  number  of 
birds  in  the  aviary  of  Goorelka.  These  birds 
are  her  former  lovers,  and  they  can  only  be 
disenchanted  if  they  are  kept  laughing  for 
one  hour  uninterruptedly.  Noorna  happens 
by  accident  to  gain  possession  of  Goorelka's 
magic  ring  which  made  its  possessor  "  mis- 
tress of  the  marvellous  hair  which  is  a 
magnet  to  the  homage  of  men,  so  that  they 
crowd  and  crush  and  hunger  to  adore  it, 
even  the  Identical."  She  disenchants  her 
father,  and  then,  anxious  to  evade  her 
promise  to  Karaz,  discovers  that,  while  the 
hair  Identical  must  live  on  some  head,  the  ring 
is  powerless  over  it  except  in  the  genie's 
head.  She  therefore  manages  to  outwit 
Karaz,  tears  the  hair  from  his  head,  and 
drops  it  on  that  of  an  innocent  clothier  called 
Shagpat.  Karaz  forthwith  becomes  her  re- 
bellious slave.  But  he  has  his  revenge.  For 
Goorelka  had  persuaded  Noorna,  who  loved 

71 


George  Meredith 

flowers,  to  tend  the  Lily  of  Light  upon 
the  Enchanted  Sea,  which  meant  that  her 
beauty  was  bound  up  with  that  of  the  Lily. 
"  Whatever  was  a  stain  to  one  withered  the 
other."  Goorelka  then  blighted  the  petals 
of  the  Lily  and  turned  Noorna  into  a 
wrinkled  crone,  ugly  and  tottering.  Never- 
theless Noorna,  by  the  power  of  the  ring, 
is  able  to  advance  Feshnavat  to  the  position 
of  vizier,  and  in  the  meantime  she  anxiously 
awaits  the  coming  of  the  barber  who,  as  her 
spells  inform  her,  is  destined  to  shave  the 
Identical  from  the  head  of  the  vain-glorious 
Shagpat.  For  the  worthy  clothier,  finding 
himself  the  object  of  homage  on  account  of 
his  hair,  naturally  remains  unshorn,  "  a 
miracle  of  hairiness,  black  with  hair  as  he 
had  been  muzzled  by  it,  and  his  head  as  it 
were  a  berry  in  a  huge  bush  by  reason  of  it." 
The  whole  city,  including  the  king,  lies 
under  the  enchantment  of  the  hair.  Only 
Feshnavat  and  Noorna  retain  their  wits, 
and  Shagpat  audaciously  claims  the  latter  in 
marriage. 

It  is  at  this  juncture  that  the  story  opens. 
Noorna's  magic  has    revealed    to   her   that 
72 


The  Shaving  of  Shagpat 

Shagpat  is  to  be  shaved  by  a  certain  youth 
who  comes  along  a  magic  line  which  she 
draws  from  the  sandhills  outside  the  city. 
This  youth  is  Shibli  Bagarag  of  Shiraz, 
"nephew  to  the  renowned  Baba  Mustapha, 
chief  barber  to  the  Court  of  Persia."  Hungry 
and  abject,  Shibli  is  met  by  Noorna  in  her 
hag-like  form,  who  persuades  him  that  his 
fortune  is  made  if  he  only  succeeds  in  shaving 
Shagpat.  The  youth  is  vain  and  enterpris- 
ing. He  makes  the  attempt,  and  is  soundly 
thwacked  for  the  insult  to  Shagpat  and  the 
citizens ;  the  latter  indignantly  throw  him 
out  of  the  city.  Noorna  however  consoles 
him  with  the  promise  of  honour  and  happi- 
ness, if  he  agrees  to  marry  her.  This,  after 
some  hesitation,  he  agrees  to  do.  They  are 
betrothed  in  the  house  of  Feshnavat;  Shibli 
is  amazed  to  find  that  each  of  his  rather 
reluctant  kisses  makes  the  hag  become 
younger  and  prettier,  whereupon  Noorna 
reveals  to  his  astonished  ears  the  destiny  to 
which  he  is  appointed.  The  news  turns  his 
head.  Noorna  had  already  detected  his  con- 
ceit. "Tis  clear,"  she  said  to  her  father, 
"  that  vanity  will  trip  him,  but  honesty  is  a 
73 


George  Meredith 

strong  upholder."  Shibli  verifies  this  prog- 
nostication by  his  swelling  pride  at  the  news 
of  what  he  was  designed  to  accomplish.  ' '  He 
exulted,  and  his  mind  strutted  through  the 
future  of  his  days,  and  down  the  ladder  of 
all  time,  exacting  homage  from  men,  his 
brethren  ;  and  'twas  beyond  the  art  of  Noorna 
to  fix  him  to  the  present  duties  of  the  enter- 
prise :  he  was  as  feathered  seed  before  the 
breath  of  vanity." 

The  serious  campaign  now  begins.  Three 
motives  are  at  work  in  Shibli :  the  desire  of 
taking  vengeance  for  the  thwacking  he  had 
received,  the  ambition  excited  by  his  destiny, 
and  a  genuine  love  for  Noorna.  But  the 
obstacles  are  formidable.  The  first  consists 
of  the  illusions  with  which  Rabesqurat,  the 
queen  of  the^ Enchanted  Sea,  has  surrounded 
Shagpat ;  these  "  make  it  difficult  to  know 
him  from  his  semblances,  whenever  real 
danger  threateneth  him."  Secondly,  there 
is  the  weakness  of  natural  man,  who  is  un- 
likely to  finish  off  Shagpat  at  one  effort. 
And  thirdly,  there  is  the  difficulty  of  getting 
Shagpat  ready  for  shaving,  as  well  as  the 
trouble  of  finding  a  blade  keen  enough  to 


The  Shaving  of  Shagpat 

reap  the  magic  hair  which  defies  all  mortal 
razors.  The  only  blade  is  a  sword  which  is 
to  be  found  in  Aklis,  and  to  gain  it  three 
charms  are  requisite.  The  first  is  (i)  a  phial 
of  water  from  the  fountain  of  Paravid,  each 
drop  of  which  makes  flowers  and  stones  and 
sand  to  speak  ;  this,  with  the  aid  of  Karaz, 
Noorna  enables  Shibli  to  secure,  (ii)  Then 
some  hairs  from  the  tail  of  the  horse 
Garaveen  are  required.  But  Shibli's  incur- 
able vanity  prompts  him  to  ride  the  danger- 
ous steed,  until,  to  save  him,  Noorna  is 
obliged  to  let  Karaz  seize  Garaveen.  She 
manages  to  pull  three  hairs  from  the  horse's 
tail,  but  Karaz  is  now  their  foe,  instead  of 
their  slave,  and  Shibli  has  to  return  dolefully 
to  the  city  of  Oolb,  by  aid  of  drops  from  his 
magic  phial.  Noorna,  in  the  form  of  a  hawk, 
rescues  him  en  route  from  various  perils, 
enables  him  to  shave  the  king  and  court  of 
Oolb,  to  steal  the  cockle-shell  from  under 
the  pillow  of  Goorelka,  and,  hotly  pursued 
by  the  latter,  to  tear  up  the  Lily  on  the 
Enchanted  Sea,  thus  rescuing  Noorna  from 
the  spell  of  ugliness,  and  turning  Goorelka 
into  a  repulsive  hag  who  is  carried  off  by 
75 


George  Meredith 

Karaz.  The  Lily  is  the  third  help  (iii)  in  their 
enterprise.  Equipped  with  it,  Noorna  and 
Shibli  make  for  the  fairy  mountain  of  Aklis. 
But  first  they  must  pass  through  the  palace 
of  Illusions,  where  Rabesqurat  reigns  as 
queen.  Left  to  himself,  Shibli  succumbs  to 
her  Circe-like  wiles,  but  manages  to  recover 
himself  and  to  plunge  on  through  similar 
seductions  of  vanity  and  ambition  in  the 
palace  of  Aklis.  By  the  help  of  the  seven 
sons  of  Aklis  and  their  sister,  Princess 
Gulrevaz,  he  secures  the  coveted  Sword,  at 
the  price  of  all  his  three  enchantments.  His 
first  task  is  to  rescue  poor  Noorna  who,  by 
the  spells  of  Rabesqurat,  had  been  chained 
to  a  pillar  in  the  sea ;  this,  however,  is 
effected  by  Princess  Gulrevaz  and  her  magic 
bird  Koorookh.  Shibli  now  leaves  Aklis  with 
his  precious  sword,  but  unluckily  he  bran- 
dishes it  with  a  silly  flourish,  in  order  to  look 
through  the  veil  that  shrouded  Rabesqurat  as 
she  ferried  him  across  the  sea  to  Noorna. 
The  only  cure  for  the  disastrous  illusions 
produced  by  this  vision  is  to  sleep  in  the 
bosom  of  his  beloved  ;  thanks  to  the  hair  of 
Garaveen  and  to  Abarak,  Rabesqurat's 

76 


The  Shaving  of  Shagpat 

dwarf  slave,  he  gets  clear  from  Aklis  and  is 
rescued  by  Noorna,  in  whose  lap  he  finds 
new  manhood.  Meantime  Koorookh  bears 
them  safe  into  the  desert,  where  Feshnavat 
joins  them  with  the  news  that  during  their 
absence  Shibli's  uncle,  the  loquacious  and 
irrepressible  barber  Mustapha,  had  been 
thwacked  for  daring  to  practise  his  craft  in 
Oolb,  and  that  in  a  subsequent  fit  of  delirium 
he  had — by  the  wiles  of  Goorelka  disguised 
as  a  hag — contrived  to  ruin  his  protector 
Feshnavat.  All  this  had  contributed  to  the 
greater  glory  of  Shagpat,  who  was  at  the 
zenith  of  his  arrogance. 

Feshnavat  and  his  daughter  now  return  to 
Oolb  to  mature  the  final  plot.  A  fresh 
attempt  by  Mustapha,  who  gets  the  length  of 
lathering  Shagpat,  is  frustrated  by  Karaz  in 
the  form  of  a  flea.  By  way  of  punishment 
the  barber  is  condemned  to  try  and  shave 
Shagpat  before  the  court ;  at  the  third  essay  he 
is  hurled  ignominiously  "  like  a  stone  from  a 
sling,  even  into  the  outer  air  and  beyond  the 
city  walls."  The  Identical  blazes  up  for 
three  days  and  three  nights  in  triumph  on  the 
head  of  Shagpat  who  lies  in  a  trance.  But  the 
77 


George  Meredith 

clothier's  triumph  is  short-lived.  On  the 
fourth  day,  after  a  fierce  conflict  of  genii,  the 
flashing  blade  in  Shibli's  hand  shaves  Shagpat 
clean,  to  the  consternation  of  the  populace  ; 
the  Identical  is  shorn  off,  and  "day  was  on 
the  baldness  of  Shagpat. "  So  the  story  ends. 
Baba  Mustapha  is  hailed  king  of  Oolb,  and 
Shibli  marries  Noorna. 

The  book  is  studded  with  scraps  of  verse  and 
aphorisms,  some  of  which  illustrate  germi- 
native  ideas  in  the  author's  subsequent  work. 
Thus  the  power  of  Illusion  is  represented  as 
operating  upon  people  of  one  idea.  Queen 
Rabesqurat  is  "the  mistress  of  the  single- 
thoughted,  and  them  that  follow  one  idea  to 
the  exclusion  of  a  second."  See  below  under 
" Beauchamp's  Career"  and  "One  of  Our 
Conquerors."  Shibli  illustrates  the  mischief 
done  by  airy  conceit  and  also  the  profit  of 
chastening — both  characteristic  ideas  of 
Meredith's  ethic.  The  former,  as  a  source  of 
aberration,  comes  out  also  in  the  character  of 
Shagpat,  lolling  gravely  in  his  shop  before  the 
crowds  who  assembled  to  gaze  at  his  shaggy 
pate.  Noorna  exhibits  the  union  of  wit  and 
charm  in  a  woman  which  Meredith  is  never 
78 


The  Shaving  of  Shagpat 

weary  of  commending,  and  the  story  closes  by 
hinting  that  Shibli,  unlike  some  other  heroes 
of  the  later  novels,  respected  the  wisdom  of 
his  bride,  while  he  admired  her  beauty. 
As  for  minor  details,  note  that  the  love  scene 
in  "The  Story  of  Bhanavar"  is  placed  beside 
running  water,  as  is  so  often  the  case  in 
Meredith's  romances,  and  that  the  power  of 
laughing  at  oneself  is  pronounced  the  cure 
for  pedantry  and  conceit.  In  the  palace  of 
Rabesqurat  Shibli  sees  "  divers  sitters  on 
thrones,  with  the  diadem  of  asses'  ears 
stiffened  upright,  and  monkey's  skulls  grin- 
ning with  gems ;  they  having  on  each 
countenance  the  look  of  sovereigns  and  the 
serenity  of  high  estate."  As  Shibli  reflected, 
"if  these  sitters  could  but  laugh  at  them- 
selves, there  would  be  a  release  for  them, 
and  the  crown  would  topple  off  which  getteth 
the  homage  of  asses  and  monkeys." 

The  snatches  of  verse,  which  enliven 
"Shagpat"  as  well  as  "  Farina,"  partly  recall 
the  quality  of  Meredith's  early  poems.  When 
the  latter  were  published,  Dr.  Hort  wrote  of 
them  :  "  They  are  not  deep,  but  show  a  rare 
eye  and  ear.  There  is  a  Keatsian  sensuous- 
79 


George  Meredith 

ness  about  them,  but  the  activity  and  go 
prevent  it  from  being  enervating  and 
immoral."  "  I  send  a  scrap  of  Meredith  .  .  . 
is  it  not  sweet  and  perfect  in  itself  as  a  song  ? 
Talk  of  Horace  and  Herrick !  It  seems  to 
me  more  like  Shakespeare's  songs."  This  en- 
thusiastic criticism  is  borne  out  by  several  of 
the  lyric  stanzas  in  "The  Shaving  of  Shagpat." 
The  story  has  been  beset  by  misconceptions. 
Meredith  anticipated  one  of  them  in  a 
prefatory  note  to  the  first  edition,  which 
gravely  explained  that  the  work  was  not  a 
translation.  Another  view  of  it  has  been 
more  persistent.  Attempts  have  been  made 
to  read  an  allegorical  significance  into  the 
adventures  of  Shibli,  as  though  that  worthy 
person  represented  the  true  reformer  who 
seeks  to  emancipate  men  from  the  old  customs 
and  abuses  to  which  they  bow  down.  Some 
ground  for  this  theory  might  plausibly  be 
found  in  the  conclusion,  where  Meredith 
observes  gravely  that  "  the  mastery  of  an 
Event  lasteth  among  men  for  the  space  of 
one  cycle  of  years,  and  after  that  a  fresh 
Illusion  springeth  to  befool  mankind.  As 
the  poet  declareth  in  his  scorn : 
80 


The  Shaving  of  Shagpat 

*  Some  doubt  Eternity  :  from  life  begun, 
Has  folly  ceased  within  them,  sire  to  son  ? 
So,  ever  fresh  Illusions  will  arise 
And  lord  creation  until  men  are  wise.' " 

But  it  is  as  vain  to  allegorise  this  story  as 
"  Don  Quixote."  At  the  most,  "  The  Shaving 
of  Shagpat,"  like  "The  Idylls  of  the  King," 
has  "  an  allegory  in  the  distance  "  ;  no  elabo- 
rate symbolism  can  be  read  into  the  details 
of  the  plot.  In  fact,  as  early  as  the  second 
edition,  Meredith  humorously  disclaimed 
such  an  intention  in  another  prefatory  note. 
"  It  has  been  suggested  to  me,"  he  wrote, 
"by  one  who  has  no  fear  of  allegories  on 
the  banks  of  the  Nile,  that  the  hairy  Shagpat 
must  stand  to  mean  umbrageous  Humbug 
conquering  the  sons  of  men  ;  and  that 
Noorna  bin  Noorka  represents  the  Seasons, 
which  help  us,  if  there  is  health  in  us,  to 
dispel  the  affliction  of  his  shadow  ;  while 
my  heroic  Shibli  Bagarag  is  actually  to  be 
taken  for  Circumstance,  which  works  under 
their  changeful  guidance  towards  our  ultimate 
release  from  bondage,  but  with  a  disappoint- 
ing apparent  waywardness.  The  excuse  for 
F  81 


George  Meredith 

such  behaviour  as  this  youth  exhibits,  is  so 
good  that  I  would  willingly  let  him  wear  the 
grand  mask  hereby  offered  to  him.  But, 
though  his  backslidings  cry  loudly  for  some 
sheltering  plea,  or  garb  of  dignity,  and  though 
a  story-teller  should  be  flattered  to  have  it 
supposed  that  anything  very  distinct  was 
intended  by  him,  the  Allegory  must  be  rejected 
altogether.  The  subtle  Arab  who  conceived 
Shagpat,  meant  either  very  much  more,  or  he 
meant  less  ;  and  my  belief  is,  that,  designing 
in  his  wisdom  simply  to  amuse,  he  attempted 
to  give  a  larger  embrace  to  time  than  is 
possible  to  the  profound  dispenser  of 
Allegories,  which  are  mortal ;  which,  to  be  of 
any  value,  must  be  perfectly  clear,  and,  when 
perfectly  clear,  are  as  little  attractive  as  Mrs. 
Malaprop's  reptile." 


FARINA 


Farina 

FARINA:  A  Legend  of  Cologne"  was 
published  in  1857.  Slighter  than  "  The 
Shaving  of  Shagpat,"  it  is  also  a  burlesque, 
although  the  subject  is  mediaeval,  not 
oriental.  The  story  is  a  subtly  ironical 
sketch  of  superstition  and  chivalry,  which 
reminds  one  of  Peacock's  "Maid  Marian" 
— itself  a  gentle  satire  on  the  romantic 
movement  represented  by  M.  G.  Lewis  and 
Sir  Walter  Scott.  "  Farina,"  however,  with 
its  blend  of  the  supernatural  and  the  heroic 
lies  nearer  to  "The  Abbot"  and  "The 
Monastery."  At  the  close  of  the  first  chapter 
of  "The  Tale  of  Chloe,"  Meredith  after- 
wards  wrote  that  "  A  living  native  duke  is 
worth  fifty  Phoebus  Apollos  to  Englishmen, 
and  a  buxom  young  lass  of  the  fields  mounting 
from  a  pair  of  pails  to  the  estate  of  duchess, 
a  more  romantic  object  than  troops  of  your 
visionary  Yseults  and  Guine veres. "  '  'Farina" 


George  Meredith 

is  a  practical  illustration  of  this  scorn  for  the 
revival  of  mediaevalism.  In  spite  of  its  love- 
passages  and  fits  of  spirited  narrative,  it  is 
hardly  an  adequate  example  of  the  writer's 
power  over  the  short  story,  but  it  reflects 
his  German  education  and  one  or  two  of  his 
characteristic  ideas. 

Gottlieb  von  Groschen,  a  rich  merchant 
and  money-lender  of  Cologne,  has  one  lovely 
daughter  Margarita,  in  whose  honour  the 
youths  of  the  city  have  formed  a  White  Rose 
Club  sworn  to  uphold  her  beauty  against  all 
comers.  Only  one  youth,  the  slender,  fair 
Farina,  refuses  to  join  this  league  of  tender 
and  quarrelsome  fanatics.  Farina  is  poor ; 
as  a  student  of  chemistry,  he  is  also  suspected 
of  tampering  with  the  black  art ;  but  Mar- 
garita's heart  is  tender  towards  him,  and  he 
is  in  love  with  her. 

The  story  opens  three  days  before  the 
entry  of  Kaiser  Heinrichs  into  Cologne  after 
a  campaign  on  the  Danube.  A  troop  of  wild 
cavalry,  belonging  to  the  robber  baron 
Werner,  of  Werner's  Eck,  an  independent 
royal  adherent,  ride  into  the  city  and  attempt 
to  offer  an  indignity  to  Margarita  in  front  of 
86 


Farina 

her  father's  house.  Thanks  to  the  interven- 
tion of  a  sturdy  stranger,  Guy  the  Gosshawk, 
who  is  in  the  Kaiser's  service,  the  girl  is 
rescued  ;  Werner  rides  up  to  scatter  his  un- 
ruly followers  ;  and  the  Gosshawk  is  feted  by 
the  grateful  Gottlieb,  while  Farina  goes  off, 
rewarded  for  his  share  in  the  rescue  by  soft 
words  from  Margarita's  lips  and  a  silver 
arrow  from  her  hair.  Later  in  the  evening, 
Guy  and  he  foregather,  and,  after  some 
nocturnal  adventures  in  foiling  an  attack  of 
Schmidt,  Werner's  dupe  and  confederate, 
upon  Gottlieb's  house,  both  are  captured  by 
the  White  Rose  Club  who  suspect  them  ot 
designs  upon  Margarita.  Guy  is  released  at 
Gottlieb's  request,  but  Farina,  who  has  lost 
his  silver  arrow  during  the  night,  is  consigned 
to  prison. 

Next  day  the  prowling  Werner  sends  a 
forged  letter  from  Farina  to  Margarita  with 
the  silver  arrow  which  Schmidt  had  picked 
up.  The  note,  however,  is  opened  by  the 
girl's  aunt  Lisbeth,  a  sour  and  suspicious 
prude,  who  thinks  it  best  to  keep  the  assig- 
nation herself,  in  the  disguise  of  her  niece. 
The  result  is  that  she  is  carried  off  to  the 
87 


George  Meredith 

robber  baron's  castle.  On  discovering  their 
mistake,  the  troopers  return  and  secure 
Margarita  who,  after  opening  a  letter  to 
Lisbeth  from  her  crony,  Farina's  mother, 
had  gone  to  visit  Farina  in  prison. 

The  plot  is  now  complicated  rather  awk- 
wardly by  a  combat  on  the  Drachenfels 
between  Satan  and  a  mysterious  monk  who 
carries  off  Farina  from  prison  to  witness  the 
ghostly  combat.  Meredith  describes  the  latter 
in  Lucianic  style.  Satan  is  openly  vanquished 
and  takes  refuge  underground  in  Cologne. 
Monk  Gregory,  inflated  with  a  victory  which 
is  apparently  complete,  finds  himself  a  spiritual 
hero  ;  but,  instead  of  having  Farina  to  corrob- 
orate his  tale  of  prowess,  he  is  deserted  by 
that  youth,  who  is  off  with  Guy  to  rescue 
Margarita.  The  rescue  is  effected  after  a 
hand-to-hand  conflict  between  Guy  and  the 
Baron,  assisted  by  the  supernatural  agency  of 
a  Water-Lady  who  helps  Farina  into  the 
castle  and  paralyses  the  Baron  by  announcing 
that  his  doom  has  come,  inasmuch  as  a  true 
lover  (i.e.,  Farina)  has  dipped  three  times  in 
the  stream  round  the  Eck. 

Returning  to  Cologne,  the  party  meet  the 


Farina 

White  Rose  Club,  and,  on  discovering  that 
Lisbeth  is  still  a  prisoner  in  the  castle,  retrace 
their  steps  to  deliver  her.  Farina  alone 
proceeds  to  the  city  to  resume  his  captivity 
and  take  his  place  again  beside  monk  Gregory- 
The  poor  monk's  hour  of  triumph  has 
passed  into  degradation.  Satan's  overpowering 
stench,  as  he  went  underground,  keeps  the 
Kaiser  at  a  distance  from  the  city,  and  the 
blame  of  this  pestilential  odour  is  naturally 
laid  by  the  citizens  upon  the  luckless  ecclesi- 
astic. Farina,  however,  solves  the  problem 
and  mends  his  own  fortunes  by  furnishing 
the  Kaiser  with  a  bottle  of  his  new  essence, 
Eau  de  Cologne.  The  king  and  his  army  thus 
find  it  possible  to  enter  the  city,  and  Farina's 
reward  is  the  hand  of  Margarita. 

The  main  indications  of  promise  in  this 
slight  tale  are  Meredith's  treatment  of  young 
love,  his  description  of  the  nightingales  over- 
heard by  Farina  outside  the  castle,  and  his 
mastery  of  the  art  of  being  grave  and  absurd 
in  the  same  breath.  Margarita  is  the  first 
sketch  of  later  heroines  like  Jane  Ilchester 
and  Aminta  and  Rose  Jocelyn,  with  her 
frank,  blue  eyes,  and  her  mixture  of  boyish 


George  Meredith 

camaraderie  and  womanly  charm.  Again,  as  in 
"  The  Shaving  of  Shagpat,"  pride  has  its  rdle  ; 
the  monk  Gregory  boasts  of  his  victory  over 
Satan,  but  has  to  confess  :  "  How  great  must 
be  the  virtues  of  them  that  encounter  Sathanas! 
Valour  availeth  naught.  But  if  virtue  be  not 
in  ye,  soon  will  ye  be  puffed  to  bursting  with 
that  devil's  poison,  self-incense."  It  is  notice- 
able, too,  that  while  the  ascetic,  who  has 
forsworn  the  joys  of  life,  falls  into  the  snare 
of  spiritual  pride,  the  brave  and  healthy 
lover,  in  the  person  of  Farina,  escapes  and 
succeeds.  As  the  second  last  paragraph  of 
the  conclusion  hints,  the  final  victory  over 
conceit  is  gained  by  true  love.  Meredith  here 
draws  a  burlesque  vignette  of  what  reappears 
in  tragic  and  comic  shapes  on  almost  every 
one  of  his  later  and  larger  canvases. 


90 


THE  ORDEAL 
OF  RICHARD  FEVEREL 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

'T^HE  sub-title  of  this  novel,  which 
-*-  was  published  in  1859,  is  "A  History 
of  Father  and  Son."  It  is  a  study  of 
the  Egoist  as  father,  and  of  a  son  who 
has  the  misfortune  to  be  the  victim  of 
a  paternal  system.  When  Meredith  wrote 
this  novel,  the  romantic  movement  was 
beginning  to  give  way  before  the  scientific  ; 
fresh  ideas  about  evolution,  heredity,  and 
environment  were  in  the  air ;  and  Herbert 
Spencer  had  just  published  in  the  "British 
Quarterly  Review  "  (April,  1858)  his  famous 
essay  upon  the  place  of  natural  reactions  in 
education,  contending  that  parents  ought  to 
let  their  children  feel  the  true  consequences 
of  their  conduct,  and  pleading  among  other 
things  that  "in  its  injurious  effects  on  both 
parent  and  child  a  bad  system  is  twice 
cursed."  Like  Austin  Gaxton  and  Mr. 
Shandy,  Sir  Austin  Feverel  has  a  system  of 
93 


George  Meredith 

his  own,  but  it  is  the  system  of  a  benevolent 
despot  who  exaggerates  his  parental  re- 
sponsibilities.* His  aim  is  to  shut  out  the 
world  from  the  tender  plant,  to  repress  some 
of  the  more  natural  instincts,  and  to  bend  the 
twig  into  the  shape  of  his  own  personality. 
The  consequences  of  this  system  form  the 
contents  of  the  story. 

Like  George  Eliot,  Meredith  had  tried  his 
'prentice  hand  in  short  stories  before  he 
published  his  first  masterpiece.  The  "  Scenes 
of  Clerical  Life,"  written  contemporaneously 
with  "Shagpat"  and  "Farina,"  gave  far 
more  promise  of  "Adam  Bede,"  however, 
than  Meredith's  first  stories  did  of  "The 
Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel."  When  Lewes 
read  "Amos  Barton,"  he  told  George  Eliot, 
"I  think  your  pathos  is  better  than  your 
fun."  "Shagpat"and  "Farina"  are  full  of 
fun.  Pathos  is  not  in  them.  No  reader  of 
these  jeux  d' esprit  could  expect  anything  like 
the  imaginative  power,  the  penetration  into 
human  nature,  the  combination  of  sombre 


*  There  is  an  excellent  statement  of  thi«  error,  in  the  sphere  of 
political  despotism,  by  Mr.  Chesterton  in  hi*  sentences  on  Strafford 
("  Brownintf."  p.  31). 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

pathos  and  brilliant  comedy,  which  "The 
Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel  "  presented. 

There  should  be  a  Society  for  the  Protec- 
tion of  Books  against  their  Authors.  This 
novel  is  one  of  those  which  have  suffered 
from  revision  ;  it  has  been  repeatedly  pruned 
by  Meredith,  and  not  always  with  discretion. 
If  he  had  applied  his  knife  to  a  book  like 
"One  of  Our  Conquerors,"  it  would  have 
been  more  to  the  point.  As  it  is,  a  reader  of 
the  earlier  editions  may  congratulate  himself 
upon  the  fact  that  their  defects  in  format  are 
more  than  counterbalanced  by  their  un- 
thinned  chapters.  The  alterations,  however, 
have  not  affected  the  essentials  of  the  plot, 
which  works  out  as  follows. 

Sir  Austin  Feverel,  of  Raynham  Abbey, 
had  been  deserted  by  his  wife,  who  eloped 
five  years  after  their  marriage  with  his 
friend  Denzil  Somers.  Somers,  a  minor 
poet  whose  pseudonym  was  Diaper  Sandoe, 
"being  inclined  to  vice,  and  occasionally,  and 
in  a  quiet  way,  practising  it,  was  of  course  a 
sentimentalist  and  a  satirist,  entitled  to  lash 
the  Age  and  complain  of  human  nature. " 
The  moral  tone  of  his  poems  was  unex- 
95 


George  Meredith 

ccptional.  But  he  deceived  his  friend  and 
patron,  and,  after  playing  Rizzio  to  Lady 
Feverel's  Mary,  carried  off  the  pretty,  in- 
experienced woman  to  a  life  of  disenchant- 
ment and  privation.  The  two  hardly  appear 
upon  the  stage  of  the  story-  Lady  Feverel 
steals  in  once  or  twice  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her 
boy,  and  Somers  stoops  to  ask  an  annuity 
from  Sir  Austin.  But  the  latter  despised  his 
former  friend  too  much  to  seek  any  revenge, 
though  he  was  incapable  of  forgiving  the 
wound  dealt  his  pride  by  his  wife.*  To 
their  only  child  Sir  Austen  devotes  himself 
with  a  fussy,  fingering  attention.  He  has  a 
cherished  system  of  education  for  the  boy, 
based  half  on  pride  and  half  on  sentimen- 
talism.  Convinced  that  schools  and  colleges 
were  corrupt,  he  aims  at  playing  Providence 
himself.  He  wishes  to  direct  every  move  in 
the  lad's  moral  and  mental  development 
"  If  immeasurable  love  were  perfect  wisdom, 
one  human  being  might  almost  impersonate 
P  rovidence  to  another. "  But  the  very  ordeal 


*  Sir  Austin,  however,  it  not  vindictive.  The  twist  given  to  bis 
bruised  heart  produces  simply  a  suspicion  of  women — one  of  the  sources  to 
which  Meredith  is  fond  of  tracing  the  aberrations  of  men. 

96 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

of  Richard  arises  from  his  father's  well-meant, 
unwise  endeavour  to  confine  natural  ten- 
dencies within  the  artificial  restraints  of 
a  preconceived  theory.  This  in  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances would  turn  out  a  prig  or  a  rake. 
Which  will  Richard  be?  Or,  is  he  to  be 
either  ? 

The  novel  opens  on  the  boy's  fourteenth 
birthday,  when  he  and  his  companion,  Ripton 
Thompson,  the  son  of  Sir  Austin's  solicitor, 
are  horsewhipped  by  a  certain  Farmer  Blaize 
for  poaching  and  trespassing.  In  order  to 
revenge  themselves,  the  boys  persuade  a 
country  lad,  Tom  Bakewell,  to  set  fire  that 
evening  to  the  farmer's  ricks.  Tom  is 
arrested  and  imprisoned,  to  the  conster- 
nation of  the  lads,  whose  plot  is  found  out 
by  the  baronet  and  his  circle.  Finally,  after 
considerable  manoeuvring  on  the  part  of 
various  members  of  the  family,  the  yokel  is 
acquitted,  but  not  until  Richard  has  had  to 
apologise  humbly  to  the  farmer.*  His  con- 
quest of  pride  appears  to  his  father  a  fresh 

*  Austin  Went  worth,  whose  influence  helps  Richard  here  as  in  the 
end  of  the  tale,  partly  belongs  to  the  class  of  Vernon  Whitford,  partly 
to  that  of  Dartrey  Fenellan.  Adrian  Harley  ranks  with  Colney  Durance, 
no  higher. 

G  97 


George  Meredith 

proof  of  the  correctness  of  the  system.  The 
small  dose  of  the  world,  for  which  poor 
Ripton  is  blamed,  has  turned  out  well,  the 
baronet  reflects,  owing  to  the  excellent  way 
in  which  Richard  has  been  trained. 

The  second  stage  of  the  ordeal,  however, 
is  more  serious  and  less  satisfactory.  During 
the  next  four  years,  the  baronet's  main 
anxiety  is  to  keep  all  ideas  of  love  away  from 
the  lad's  mind.  The  preliminary  blossoming 
season,  as  he  terms  it,  when  conscience 
and  mind  have  to  be  awakened,  passes 
safely,  though  Richard  is  on  the  fair  way  to 
become  a  little  prig.*  The  only  bad  omen 
is  an  attack  of  scribbling.  Sir  Austin,  how- 
ever, gets  the  boy  to  burn  his  verses.  "He 
drew  out  bundle  after  bundle :  each  neatly 
tied,  named,  and  numbered  ;  and  pitched 
them  into  flames.  And  so  farewell  my 
young  Ambition  !  and  with  it  farewell  all 
true  confidence  between  Father  and  Son." 
Sir  Austin  is  blissfully  unconscious  of  this 
error.  He  congratulates  himself  on  having 

*  His  intercourse  with  Ralph  Morton  knocks  manliness  into  him ; 
but,  if  it  hits  a  wholesome  stroke  at  his  vanity,  it  also  fosters  the  disposition 
to  love.  For  Ralph  ia  in  the  first  stages  of  a  boyish  passion  for  Clare 
Doria  Forey. 

98 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

a  pure  and  obedient  boy,  and  now  proceeds 
to  safeguard  his  treasure  against  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  Magnetic  age.  His  precautions 
border  on  the  ludicrous.  All  servants  at 
the  Abbey  who  show  any  visible  symptoms 
of  the  tender  passion  are  at  once  dismissed, 
thanks  mainly  to  the  efforts  of  heavy  Benson, 
the  butler;  Glare  Doria  Forey,  Richard's 
little  cousin,  has  to  leave  the  Abbey  with 
her  mother ;  and  Sir  Austin  proceeds  to 
London  in  order  to  look  out  a  suitable  wife 
for  his  young  hopeful.  Richard  is  eighteen  ; 
he  is  to  marry,  acccording  to  the  system,  at 
the  age  of  twenty -five. 

But  the  schemes  of  baronets  as  well  as  of 
mice  "gang  aft  a-gley."  Like  Pisistratus 
Gaxton,  Richard  is  already  at  school  with  the 
two  great  teachers,  Nature  and  Love.  He  has 
chosen  his  mate,  by  falling  in  love  with 
Lucy  Desborough,  the  seventeen-year  old 
niece  of  Farmer  Blaize.  Adrian  Feverel, 
his  uncle  and  tutor,  finds  out  the  secret ; 
Benson,  the  butler,  writes  to  Sir  Austin  ; 
and  Richard  is  inveigled  up  to  town  by  a  false 
report  of  his  father's  illness.  He  soon  dis- 
covers that  Sir  Austin  is  not  only  perfectly 
99 


George  Meredith 

well  but  quite  aware  of  the  engagement. 
His  father's  thinly- veiled  advice  and 
sarcasms  destroy  any  chance  of  confidences 
being  exchanged  between  the  two,  but 
Richard  is  kept  dangling  for  three  weeks 
beside  him,  until  Adrian  and  Lady  Blandish 
(a  sentimental  widow,  who  is  in  Sir  Austin's 
confidence)  get  the  farmer  to  pack  off  Lucy 
back  to  her  French  school.  Richard  returns  to 
the  Abbey  and  falls  ill,  only  to  recover  from 
his  physical  and  apparently  from  his  amorous 
malady.*  The  following  March,  as  he 
accompanies  one  of  his  uncles  to  London, 
he  happens  to  hear  that  Lucy  is  coming 
home  to  be  married  to  young  Tom  Blaize, 
the  farmer's  son — an  arrangement  which  had 
been  carefully  concealed  from  him.  The 
love-passion  revives  at  once.  He  meets  her, 
places  her,  with  the  aid  of  Ripton,  under 
the  care  of  a  Mrs.  Berry  in  lodgings,  and 
then  marries  her  secretly.  Miranda  is 
rescued  from  the  Caliban  who  threatened 
to  be  her  fate,  and  Ferdinand  is  the  rescuer. 


*  Meredith  here  and  elsewhere  is  careful  to  note  the  effects  produced 
by  physical  illness  upon  the  spirit  of  his  men  and  women. 

100 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

Sir  Austin  blames  neither  himself*  nor 
the  system,  but  his  son,  whom  he  moodily 
reproaches  for  treachery  and  deception. 
The  baronet  nurses  the  devil  of  his  wounded 
pride.  His  conceit  is  unbroken ;  he  will 
not  admit  the  possibility  of  any  error  in  the 
experiment  which  he  has  been  practising 
on  his  boy.  Beyond  making  him  an  allow- 
ance, he  declines  to  take  any  notice  of  the 
marriage,  shutting  his  heart  against  his  only 
son.  This  bitter  attitude  leaves  Richard 
sad  and  angry,  and  Lucy  rather  depressed. 
What  Richard  wants  is  not  money,  but  a 
kind  word  from  his  father,  which  the  latter, 
in  his  cold  superiority  and  unnatural  reserve, 
will  not  stoop  to  bestow. 

Meantime  the  young  couple  at  the  Isle  of 
Wight  are  in  dangerous  company.  Richard, 
for  the  first  time,  is  meeting  men  and 
women  in  free  intercourse,  including  a  Lord 
Mountfalcon  and  a  dark,  tall,  attractive  Lady 

*  The  irony  of  the  business  is  that  Richard's  instinct  of  love  it 
vaguely  stirred  first  of  all  by  witnessing  his  father's  lordly  philandering 
with  Lady  Blandish.  Benson,  who  spies  another  instance  of  this,  is  finally 
dismissed  for  his  inquisitiveness,  but  not  before  he  has  been  flogged  by 
Richard  for  intruding  upon  the  privacy  of  the  younger  lovers.  The  amorous 
Curate,  who  has  strayed  in  from  the  pages  of  "  Pendennis  "  is  an  even 
milder  figure  than  his  fellow  in  "The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond." 

101 


George  Meredith 

Judith  Felle.  The  former  is  a  villain,  the 
latter  a  sentimental  married  woman.  By 
the  diplomacy  of  Adrian  and  Lady  Blandish, 
Richard  is  persuaded  to  come  alone 
to  London,  in  the  hope  that  Sir  Austin 
may  consent  at  least  to  see  him,  if  not  to 
take  him  back.  Adrian  persuades  Lucy  to 
agree  to  this  sacrifice,  and  even  to  urge  it, 
arguing  that  this  is  in  Richard's  interest ;  the 
young  husband,  though  accusing  her  of 
cowardice  and  unable  to  understand  her  real 
motive,  falls  in  with  his  uncle's  plan.  Mrs. 
Doria  Forey  further  persuades  him,  after 
Clare's  marriage,  to  wait  for  his  father  in 
London,  unless  he  wishes  to  make  Sir  Austin 
marry  Lady  Blandish.  Sir  Austin's  real 
aim,  however,  is  to  separate  husband  and 
wife.  His  angry  temper  has  devised  this 
punishment  for  Richard  ;  the  latter,  wishing 
to  humour  and  manage  his  father,  and 
ignorant  of  the  dastardly  plot,  remains  in  the 
metropolis,  where  another  plot  is  laid 
against  him  and  Lucy.  He  is  inveigled  by  a 
Mrs.  Mountstuart,  acting  under  the  instruc- 
tions of  Lord  Mountfalcon,  who  has  designs 
upon  poor  Lucy  at  the  Isle  of  Wight. 
102 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

Richard's  impulse  of  chivalry*  leads  him  to 
champion  the  reputation  of  this  woman,  and 
also  to  rescue  his  mother  from  the  life  she 
was  living.  He  summons  Lucy,  but  she — 
misled  by  Adrian — thinks  she  will  make  the 
family  feel  her  worth  more  by  patiently  wait- 
ing where  she  is,  in  case  the  baronet  should 
feel  aggrieved  by  any  sudden  move  upon  his 
privacy.  The  result  is  that  Richard,  in  a 
moment  of  disappointment  with  her,  flings 
himself  recklessly  into  Mrs.  Mountstuart*s 
company,  and  is  carried  further  than  he 
meant. 

Meantime,  Sir  Austin's  pride  has  begun  to 
relent  towards  his  son  and  daughter-in-law. 
He  had  gone  off  with  a  note-book  to  write 
aphorisms  in  Wales,  but  has  now  returned. 
Only,  his  amendment  is  too  late,  t 
Richard  receives  his  father's  tentative 

*  The  first  ebullition  of  this  quixotic  instinct  broke  out  in  his  attempt 
to  hinder  the  loveless  marriage  which  was  being  forced  on  his  cousin 
Clare.  This  was  one  of  the  reasons  which  hurried  him  DP  to  London. 
The  second  course  of  folly  was  due  to  his  ignorance  of  the  world  (one  result 
of  the  system)  and  his  vanity.  Sir  Austin  has  told  Adrian  to  let  Richard 
see  the  world,  this  being  partly  designed  as  an  education,  partly  in  order 
to  keep  him  away  from  Lucy. 

t  Meredith  here  touches  the  string  which  we  shall  find  sounding 
loudly  in  "  Rhoda  Fleming,"  "  Lord  Ormont  and  his  Aminta."  and  "  The 
Amazing  Marriage." 

103 


George  Meredith 

advances  coldly  ;  black  shame  keeps  him 
from  joining  Lucy,  whom  he  has  wronged  ; 
and,  as  Sir  Austin  refuses  to  receive  her  at 
the  Abbey  without  him,  matters  are  at  a 
stand-still.  Richard,  cursing  himself  for  his 
folly,  goes  off  to  the  Continent,  where  he 
joins  the  sentimental  Lady  Felle,  while  Lucy, 
whom  Mrs.  Berry  has  rescued  from  her 
aristocratic  admirer,  gives  birth  to  a  child  in 
London.  At  this  point,  Austin  Wentworth, 
one  of  Richard's  uncles,  a  quiet,  strong, 
chivalrous  gentleman,  returns  from  abroad, 
and  intervenes.  He  takes  Lucy  and  her  baby 
to  Raynham  Abbey,  where  the  baronet 
capitulates  at  sight  to  the  girl-wife's  charm. 
Then  he  fetches  Richard  home  from  Nassau 
in  the  Rhine-land,  after  hard  persuasion,  by 
telling  him  the  amazing  news  of  his  father- 
hood. "  He  felt  in  his  heart  the  cry  of  his 
child,  his  darling's  touch.  With  shut  eyes  he 
saw  them  both.  They  drew  him  from  the 
depths  ;  they  led  him  a  blind  and  tottering 
man.  And  as  they  led  him  he  had  a  sense 
of  purification  so  sweet  he  shuddered  again 
and  again." 

All  is  now  going  well,    and    Richard  is 
104 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

hurrying  home,  when  in  passing  through 
London  he  happens  to  hear  of  Lord  Mount- 
falcon's  infamous  and  unsuccessful  plot 
against  his  wife,  which  had  been  the  cause  of 
his  degradation.  The  lad's  hot  blood  is  up. 
He  challenges  the  aristocrat  to  a  duel,  feeling 
that  he  must  take  vengeance  on  the  villain 
and  clear  his  personal  honour*  before  he 
can  settle  down  with  Lucy.  A  hurried 
visit  to  Raynham  Abbey  follows  ;  he  tears 
himself  from  his  wife  and  child,  after  a 
heartrending  scene,  and  is  severely 
wounded  in  France  by  his  opponent.  He 
recovers,  only  to  be  told  that  Lucy,  who  had 
crossed  to  nurse  him,  had  died  of  brain  fever. 
When  the  novel  had  been  published,  James 
Thomson  told  his  friend  frankly  that  no 
woman,  and  scarcely  any  man,  would  ever 
forgive  him  for  "the  cruel,  cruel  ending." 
Lucy's  death  is  one  of  the  few  blots  in  the 
book,  and  the  objections  to  it  are  not  to  be 


*  Thus  it  is  false  or  wounded  pride  which  wrecks  the  son.  as,  in  a 
different  form,  it  was  a  mixture  of  pride  and  vanity  which  had  warped  the 
father.  "  A  mad  pleasure  in  the  prospect  of  wreaking  vengeance  on  the 
villain  who  had  laid  the  trap  for  him,  once  more  blackened  his  brain."  In 
the  instant  when  he  confesses  to  Lucy  that  he  had  been  a  vain  fool,  he  is 
still  yielding,  as  Meredith  observes,  to  "  the  powers  of  hell." 

105 


George  Meredith 

bundled  aside  as  so  many  weak  cravings  for 
the  sugar-plum  ending.  It  is  not  required  by 
the  system,  and  it  is  even  more  inartistic* 
than  the  drowning  of  Beauchamp.  The  girl's 
character  is  described,  otherwise,  with 
singular  precision,  from  the  day  when,  as  a 
pretty  little  child  of  thirteen,  she  sees  the 
handsome,  sulky  boy  coming  to  apologize  to 
her  uncle,  down  to  the  ripening  of  her  nature 
through  marriage  and  motherhood.  She  is 
young,  even  when  she  dies,  but  never 
insipid  for  an  instant.  Her  sweet  womanli- 
ness, even  more  than  her  beauty,  is  the  clue 
to  the  charm  which  she  exercises  on  the 
Feverels.  She  is  the  sort  of  girl  Meredith 
paints  in  "Marian,"  except  that  she  never 
dealt  "a  wound  that  lingers."  There  is  just 
a  suspicion  of  unreality  in  Meredith's  account 
of  her  relations  with  Lord  Mountfalcon ;  her 
innocence  and  simplicity  are  too  credulous. 
Even  her  subservience  to  Adrian's  influence 
is  left  half-explained.  But  whenever  she  is 


*  The  shadow  of  the  cypress  (in  chapter  xxi)  may  be  intended  as  a 
preliminary  hint,  but  Lucy's  pretty  fear  of  it  only  came  after  Richard  haa 
scattered  her  anxieties  about  his  father.  The  tree  it  too  subtle  to  bear 
the  weight  of  a  premonition. 

106 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

with    Richard  the  sheer    loveliness  of  her 
nature  breaks  through.* 

Mrs.  Berry  takes  us  to  her  capacious  heart 
from  the  moment  when  we  go  with  Richard 
to  her  lodgings  at  West  Kensington.  She 
proves  a  shrewd  and  kind  and  homely  nurse 
to  Lucy.  But  she  also  reads  Sir  Austin's 
character  and  speaks  to  him  bravely  when 
she  gets  the  chance.  Her  talkt  has  the  plain 
sense  and  wit  of  Mrs.  Poyser's,  and  she  richly 
deserves  the  return  of  her  erring  Berry 
towards  the  novel's  close.  She  had  been  a 
cook  at  Raynham,  from  which  she  had  been 
exiled  on  a  small  pension  for  having  assisted 
once  to  carry  Adrian  drunk  to  bed;  the 
baronet's  pride  could  not  endure  the  presence 
of  this  witness  to  his  relative's  offence.  Her 
revenge  came  to  her  unsought  in  the  services 
she  chanced  to  render  to  Richard  and  Lucy 
against  Sir  Austin's  will.  She  thereby  be- 
came an  unconscious  agent  in  upsetting 
the  baronet's  system. 

*  She   has    French   blood  in  her  veins,   though  her  father  was  an 
English  naval  officer. 

t"  Don't  neglect  your  cookery.      Kissing  don't  last:    cookery  do." 
"  One  gets  so  addle-pated   thinkin'  many  things.     That 's  why  we  see 
wonder  clever  people   al'ays  goin*   wrong — to  my  mind.     I  think  it  'a 
al'ays  the  plan  in  a  dielemmer  to  pray  God  and  walk  forward." 
107 


George  Meredith 

The  baronet,  like  Sir  Willoughby  Patterne, 
is  further  punished  by  the  fact  that  the 
woman,  on  whose  admiration  he  counted, 
comes  to  see  through  him.  Lady  Blandish 
ceases  to  be  a  worshipper  and  is  forced  to 
become  a  critic.  The  book  ends  with  a 
letter  to  Austin  Wentworth,  which  voices  her 
vehement  contempt  for  Sir  Austin  and  his 
mad  self-deceit.*  Meredith  characteristically 
traces  this  infatuation  in  large  measure  to 
his  lack  of  humour.  "  The  faculty  of 
laughter  was  denied  him.  A  good  wind  of 
laughter  had  relieved  him  of  much  of  the 
blight  of  self-deception,  and  oddness,  and 
extravagance  ;  had  given  a  healthier  view  of 
our  atmosphere  of  life ;  but  he  had  it  not." 
This  was  the  philosophy  t  which  afterwards 
appeared  in  the  ode  "To  the  Comic  Spirit." 
As  Meredith  notes,  even  Richard  and  Lucy 
could  laugh,  in  the  dawn  of  their  love-passion  ; 
which  proves  that  their  feelings  were  not 


*  Adrian  Feverel,  the  wise  youth,  whose  satirical  wisdom  proves  so 
ineffective,  is  guilty  of  the  same  error.  "The  wise  youth's  two  ears  were 
stuffed  with  his  own  wisdom." 

t  Fielding  has  a  touch  of  it  in  the  fourth  paragraph  of  his  invocation  in 
"  Tom  Jones  "  (book  xiii.  ch.  i). 

108 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

sentimental  rouge.     "  Better  than  sentiment, 
laughter  opens  the  breast  to  love." 

Ripton,  for  all  his  peccadilloes,*  shows  that 
the  normal  training  of  youth  is  healthier 
than  the  system  of  Sir  Austin.  For  one 
thing,  Ripton,  like  Shibli  and  Pisistratus 
Gaxton,  has  known  what  it  is  to  be  thwacked. 
Richard  had  missed  the  wholesome  birchings 
of  school,  but  his  friend  was  familiar  with 
the  rod.  "  He  was  seasoned  wood,  and  took 
the  world  pretty  wisely ;  not  reckless  of 
castigation,  as  some  boys  become,  nor  over- 
sensitive to  dishonour,  as  his  friend  and 
comrade  beside  him  was."  His  humble, 
adoring  devotion  for  Lucy,  which  is  one  with 
his  loyalty  to  Richard,  shows  the  good 
heart  in  him.  "He  had  the  Old  Dog's 
eyes  in  his  head.  They  watched  the 
door  she  had  passed  through  ;  they  listened 
for  her,  as  dogs'  eyes  do.  When  she  hung 
on  her  lover  timidly,  and  went  forth,  he 
followed  without  an  idea  of  envy,  or  any- 
thing save  the  secret  raptures  the  sight  of  her 

*  The  law  of  gavelkind  which  he  uses  as  a  feint  (in  ch.  xiv),  was  • 
Saxon  custom,  surviving  in  Wales  and  Kent,  by  which  primogeniture  was 
Ret  aside  in  favour  of  an  equal  distribution  of  property,  at  a  man's  death, 
among  his  sons  and  daughters. 

109 


George  Meredith 

gave  him,  which  are  the  Old  Dog's  own. 
His  sensations  cannot  be  heroic,  but  they 
have  a  fulness,  and  a  wagging  delight,  as 
good  in  their  way."* 

The  variety  of  power  in  the  novel  is  illus- 
trated by  the  typical  chapters,  "Ferdinand 
and  Miranda  "t  and  "  A  Diversion  played  on 
a  Penny- Whistle, "which  breathe  the  spirit  of 
"  Love  in  a  Valley  " ;  the  successive  episodes 
of  the  marriage,  including  the  rather  broad 
farce  of  Ripton's  hilarious  conduct,  which  is 
on  much  the  same  level  as  the  chapters 
entitled  "A  Dinner  Party  at  Richmond"  and 
"An  Enchantress"  ;  the  account  of  Glare's 
diary  (which  verges  on  the  sentimental)  ;  and 
the  agonizing  interview  of  the  penultimate 
chapter.  Twice,  when  Richard  finds  Lucy 
beside  the  river,  and  when  he  hears  that  he 
is  a  father  (in  the  chapter,  "Nature  Speaks"), 
Meredith  reproduces  the  wonderful  rhythm 

•  Carinthia,  at  the  end  of  "The  Amazing  Marriage."  accepted 
Wythan  because  he  wooed  her  "with  dot's  eyes  instead  of  words." 

t  The  paragraph  which  closes  the  chapter  immediately  before,  and 
which  describes  Richard  coming  upon  Lucy  by  the  river's  edge,  is  full  of  the 
colour  and  fragrance  which  had  already  been  felt  in  some  of  the  early 
poems.  In  his  next  novel,  Meredith  almost  repeated  this  success  in  the 
description  of  Rose  and  Evan  beside  the  stream,  but  the  lovers  there  do 
not  flash  on  one  another  with  the  thrill  of  their  predecessors. 

110 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

of  nature  with  the  moods  and  passions  of  the 
soul  which  was  always  a  characteristic  feature 
alike  of  his  prose  and  of  his  verse. 

Meredith's  device  for  floating  his  epigrams 
in  this  novel  is  "  The  Pilgrim's  Scrip,"  which 
is  supposed  to  be  a  volume  of  aphorisms 
published  by  the  baronet.  These  are  couched 
sometimes  in  a  deliberately  commonplace 
shape,  but  now  and  then  the  author  stamps 
himself  upon  a  phrase,  as  in  the  following 
instances :  "  The  compensation  for  injustice 
is,  that  in  that  dark  ordeal  we  gather  the 
worthiest  around  us."  "Who  rises  from 
prayer  a  better  man,  his  prayer  1*5  answered." 
"  Who  can  say  when  he  is  not  walking  a  pup- 
pet to  some  woman  ?  "  *  "  Sentimentalists  are 
they  who  seek  to  enjoy  without  incurring  the 
Immense  Debtorship  for  a  thing  done." 
"  Give  me  purity  to  be  worthy  the  good  in 
her,  and  grant  her  patience  to  reach  the  good 
in  me  "  (the  lover's  petition).  The  baronet, 
however,  did  not  like  his  aphorisms  to  be 
criticised  or  questioned  ;  they  were  to  be  taken 
as  oracles  ;  even  "  the  direct  application  of 

*  This  u  expounded  in  "  Evan  Harrington  "  (see  the  close  of  chapter 
xviii). 

Ill 


George  Meredith 

an  aphorism  was  unpopular  at  Raynham." 
"  The  Pilgrim's  Scrip"  and  several  episodes 
show  that  the  author  is  a  trifle  conscious  of 
his  powers,  but  the  scheme  and  style  of  the 
novel  prove  that  the  powers  are  there,  even 
though  sometimes  they  are  devoted  to  the 
splitting  of  psychological  seeds.  One  out- 
standing feature  is  the  maturity  of  conception 
which  is  displayed  in  the  treatment  of  the 
leading  characters.  The  motive-grinding, 
which  is  audible  in  several  of  the  later  novels, 
has  already  begun,  but  this  is  a  defect  of  the 
writer's  strength  as  a  watcher  of  the  deep 
moods  of  the  human  soul. 

Note,  by  the  way,  (a)  the  satirical  allusion 
to  Richardson's  hero  at  the  opening  of  the 
nineteenth  chapter,  where  the  author  also 
describes  Mrs.  Caroline  Grandison  who  bore 
eight  daughters  in  succession,  and  then, 
despairing  of  a  son,  "relapsed  upon  religion 
and  little  dogs."  She  was  "a  colourless  lady 
of  an  unequivocal  character,  living  upon 
drugs,  and  governing  her  husband  and  the 
world  from  her  sofa.  Woolly  negroes  blest 
her  name,  and  whiskered  John-Thomases  de- 
plored her  weight."  A  sister  of  Mrs.  Jellyby ! 

112 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

(£)  The  paragraph  on  snobbery  in  chapter 
xxxv  ("  The  Conquest  of  an  Epicure"),  with 
its  thesis  that  "the  national  love  of  a  lord  is 
less  subservience  than  a  form  of  self-love,'* 
was  echoed,  years  later,  by  Ruskin  in  his 
"  Fors  Clavigera"  (letter  Ixiii)  criticism  of 
Thackeray,  whom  he  accused  of  being  blind 
to  the  fact  that  "it  is  himself  the  snob  truly 
worships,  all  the  time,  and  not  the  Lord  he 
looks  at."  (c)  Sir  F.  G.  Burnand,  in  his  "Rec- 
ords and  Reminiscences/'  recalled  the  figure  of 
Maurice  Fitzgerald,  an  eccentric  epicure  and 
scholar,  whom  Meredith  used  to  call  "  the 
wise  youth."  The  novelist,  however,  repu- 
diated the  inference  that  Fitzgerald  was  the 
prototype  of  Adrian  Harley.  Fitzgerald  was 
neither  selfish  nor  unprincipled.  It  is  need- 
less to  do  more  than  mention,  as  a  curiosity 
of  error,  the  idea  that  Adrian  is  meant  to 
represent  the  author's  characteristic  attitude 
towards  life.  (</)  Boiardo  and  Berni,  whom 
Lady  Blandish  included  in  her  studies  of  liter- 
ature, were  two  Italian  poets.  The  former  a 
distinguished  scholar  of  the  fifteenth  century  i 
wrote  an  "Orlando  Innamorato,"  which 
formed  the  basis  of  Ariosto's  more  famous 
H  113 


George  Meredith 

poem.  Berni,  who  was  a  comic  poet  of  the 
next  century,  edited  and  recast  Boiardo's 
romantic  epic.  Meredith  more  than  once 
alludes  to  them,  as  Peacock  had  already  done. 
Finally  the  novel  is  remarkable  as  contain- 
ing a  defence,  by  way  of  anticipation,  of  the 
psychological,  introspective  method  upon 
which  the  author  proposed  to  write.  "At 
present,  I  am  aware,  an  audience  impatient 
for  blood  and  glory  scorns  the  stress  I  am 
putting  on  incidents  so  minute,  a  picture  so 
little  imposing.  An  audience  will  come  " — it 
has  come,  but  not  nearly  so  soon  as  the  writer 
perhaps  expected  or  certainly  deserved — "  to 
whom  it  will  be  given  to  see  the  elementary 
machinery  at  work  :  who,  as  it  were,  from 
some  slight  hint  of  the  straws,  will  feel  the 
winds  of  March  when  they  do  not  blow  .  .  . 
And  they  will  perceive,  moreover,  that  in 
real  life  all  hangs  together  :  the  train  is  laid 
in  the  lifting  of  an  eyebrow,  that  bursts  upon 
the  field  of  thousands."  Nineteen  years 
passed  before  a  second  edition  of  the  novel 
was  required.  But  Meredith  persisted  in  his 
chosen  course,  though,  five  years  later,  he 
recognised  in  "Sandra  Belloni"  with  a  wry, 
114 


The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel 

impenitent  air  that  the  philosophic  digressions 
were  resented  in  fiction  :  "  and  away  flies 
my  book  back  at  the  heads  of  the  librarians, 
hitting  me  behind  them  a  far  more  grievous 
blow."  He  answers  his  critics  not  only,  like 
Terence  and  Fielding,  in  prologues  but  in 
unexpected  places,  and  the  answer  usually 
heralds  a  fresh  offence.  Still  Meredith,  even 
in  his  irrelevance,  might  have  safely  pled 
with  Montaigne  :  "  Tis  the  indifferent  reader 
that  loses  my  subject,  not  I ;  there  will 
always  be  found  some  words  or  other  in  a 
corner  that  are  to  the  purpose." 

The  minor  characters  include  specimens 
of  the  modern  equivalents  of  the  parasite  and 
the  demi-monde  which  social  comedy  had 
retained  since  the  days  of  Menander.  Mrs. 
Mount's  type  re-appears  in  Mrs.  Marsett  in 
"  One  of  our  Conquerors,"  though  the  setting 
is  different,  and  the  parasite  of  Lord  Mount- 
falcon  ranks  with  Captain  Cumnock  in 
"  Lord  Ormont  and  his  Aminta"  and  with  the 
toadies  of  Lord  Fleetwood  in  "  The  Amazing 
Marriage."  The  book  further  gives  proof  of 
Meredith's  ability  to  describe  the  life  of  the 
English  upper  classes,  especially  in  country 
115 


George  Meredith 

houses — a  department  in  which  both  Dickens 
and  Richardson  before  him  had  rarely  shown 
themselves  at  home.  The  later  novels,  par- 
ticularly "  The  Egoist  "  and  "  Beauchamp's 
Career,"  exhibit  still  happier  results  in  this 
line.  Fielding  once  attributed  to  ignorance 
the  failure  of  many  English  novelists  to  de- 
scribe the  manners  of  good  society.  Oddly 
enough,  he  confided  to  his  readers  (in  "Tom 
Jones,"  book  xiv,  ch.  i)  that  such  a  know- 
ledge of  upper  life  "  is  no  very  great  resource 
to  a  writer  whose  province  is  comedy  or  that 
kind  of  novel  which  is  of  the  comic  class." 
Meredith's  conception  of  the  Comic  Spirit 
led  him  to  a  very  different  opinion,  as  his 
next  novel  was  to  show. 


EVAN  HARRINGTON 


Evan  Harrington 

THE  sub-title  of  this  novel,  as  it 
appeared  serially  in  "  Once  a  Week," 
during  1860,  was  :  "  He  would  be  a  Gentle- 
man." It  really  puts,  in  the  form  of 
a  social  comedy,  some  aspects  of  the  question 
which  Ruskin  raised  simultaneously  in  the 
fifth  volume  of  his  "  Modern  Painters  "—the 
question,  what  constitutes  a  gentleman  on  the 
one  hand  and  vulgarity  on  the  other  ?  Both 
Ruskin  and  Meredith  attacked  the  conven- 
tional English  idea  that  a  gentleman  is  one 
who  lives  in  idleness,  upon  the  fruits  of  other 
people's  labour,  and  the  equally  absurd  notion 
that  birth  and  blood  are  of  no  account. 
Ruskin  analysed  vulgarity  into  callousness, 
suspiciousness,  cruelty,  and  meanness,  as  the 
expression  of  indifference  to  the  interests  of 
other  people  ;  its  reverse  side  was  an  undue 
regard  to  appearances  and  manners,  and  "  the 
assumption  of  behaviour,  language,  or  dress 
119 


George  Meredith 

unsuited  to  them,  by  persons  in  inferior 
stations  of  life."  Sensitiveness  of  feeling, 
sympathy,  and  self-command,  he  noted  among 
the  traits  of  the  essential  gentleman. 
Newman,  eight  years  before,*  had  essayed 
to  define  a  gentleman  in  "  The  Idea  of  a 
University" — the  most  versatile  and  perma- 
nent of  all  his  works.  His  definition  of  good 
breeding  suffers  from  undue  restriction.  Its 
main  element  is  the  refusal  to  inflict  pain. 
But  consideration  for  the  feelings  of  others  at 
all  costs  would  rule  out  gentlemen  from  a 
number  of  useful  professions  ;  besides,  the 
essence  of  a  gentleman  is  to  remember  not 
only  what  is  due  to  others  but  to  himself. 
Meredith's  analysis,  as  given  in  this  novel 
of  manners,  is  that  to  be  a  gentleman  is 
inconsistent,  not  with  trade  but  with  pretence 
of  any  kind,  and  that  the  primary  requisites 
are  sincerity  and  courage.  When  T.  H.  Green 
opened  the  Oxford  High  School,  he  closed 
his  address  with  these  words  :  "As  it  was  the 
aspiration  of  Moses  that  all  the  Lord's  people 
should  be  prophets,  so  with  all  serious- 

•  "John    Halifax.   Gentleman."     Miss    Mulock's    masterpiece,     bad 
appeared  in  1856. 

120 


Evan  Harrington 

ness  and  reverence  we  may  hope  and  pray 
for  a  condition  of  English  Society  in  which 
all  honest  citizens  will  recognise  themselves 
and  be  recognised  by  others  as  gentlemen." 
Meredith's  contribution  to  this  end,  in  "Evan 
Harrington,"  was  to  holdup  to  ridicule  false 
gentility  and  sham  social  pretensions  ;  he  took 
a  tailor  as  his  hero,  and  used  the  Comic 
Spirit  to  illustrate  his  philosophy  of  society. 
In  "Sandra  Belloni,"  three  years  later, 
he  touched  on  the  same  problem  incident- 
ally. But  "Evan  Harrington"  was  his  full- 
dress  exposition  of  the  theme,  in  semi-comic 
guise. 

If  it  is  true  that  Meredith's  father  *  was  a 
naval  outfitter  at  Portsmouth  and  that 
Melchisedec  was  the  name  of  the  author's 
grandfather,  we  might  be  justified  in  spying 
behind  this  story  as  we  do  behind  "  David 
Copperfield."  But  its  intrinsic  merits  are 
independent  of  this  attraction.  The  outline 
of  the  tale,  as  told  by  Meredith,  is  this  :  — 

Melchisedec  Harrington,  a  tailor,  at  Lym- 


*  The  story  goes  that  once,  on  a  visit  to  Bath,  he  was  taken  for 
foreign  Count  in  disguise  (see  ch.  i).  When  the  story  appeared,  he  was 
tailor  in  Capetown,  and  resented  his  son's  use  of  the  paternal  exploits. 

121 


George  Meredith 

port-on-the-Sea,  "  whom  people  in  private 
called  the  great  Mel,  had  been  at  once  the 
sad  dog  of  Lymport,  and  the  pride  of  the 
town.  He  was  a  tailor,  and  he  kept  horses  ; 
he  was  a  tailor,  and  he  had  gallant  adventures ; 
he  was  a  tailor,  and  he  shook  hands  with  his 
customers."  He  had  married  a  strong, 
sensible  woman,  Henrietta  Maria  Dawley,  by 
whom  he  had  four  children,  three  daughters 
and  one  son.  Mel's  great  aim  and  pleasure 
was  to  move  in  county  society,  where  he  was 
welcomed  for  his  gay  wit  and  manners,  par- 
ticularly as  these  were  coupled  with  a  strong 
sense  of  personal  honour.  Mel  never  cringed 
or  sailed  under  false  colours.  "  He  was  a 
robust  Brummel,  and  the  Regent  of  low 
life,"  who  was  respected  by  his  betters,  in 
spite  of  his  snobbish  tastes.  "  Combine — say 
Mirabeau  and  Alcibiades,  and  the  result  is 
the  Lymport  tailor: — he  measures  your 
husband  in  the  morning  :  in  the  evening  he 
makes  love  to  you,  through  a  series  of  panto- 
mimic transformations.  He  was  a  colossal 
Adonis."  Mel  fostered  the  same  tastes  in  his 
family.  He  read  heraldry  with  his  daughters, 
and  saw  them  all  make  good  matches.  The 
122 


Evan  Harrington 

eldest  of  them,  Caroline,  married  Major 
Strike  ;  the  second,  Harriet,  was  won  by  a 
wealthy  London  brewer,  Mr.  Andrew 
Gogglesby  ;  while  the  third,  Louisa,  became 
the  wife  of  a  Portuguese  diplomatist,  Senor 
Silva  Diaz,  Conde  de  Saldar.  The  husband 
of  the  eldest  daughter  knew  the  trade  of  his 
father-in-law  ;  Mr.  Cogglesby  came  to  suspect 
it  in  due  time  ;  but  the  Count  was  kept  in  igno- 
rance. All  three  wives  agreed,  however,  to 
avoid  the  neighbourhood  of  Lymport.  Car- 
oline, a  weak  and  pretty  woman,  had  the 
hardest  lot.  She  had  married  a  military 
edition  of  Quilp.  "  If  we  may  be  permitted 
to  suppose  the  colonel  of  a  regiment  on 
friendly  terms  with  one  of  his  corporals,  we 
have  an  estimate  of  the  domestic  life  of  Major 
and  Mrs.  Strike."  Harriet  had  a  good 
husband,  a  large  family,  and  plenty  of  money. 
Louisa  had  no  money,  but  then  she  had  no 
children  and  her  husband  was  a  puppet  whom 
she  had  met  under  Harriet's  auspices.  She 
was  the  pushful,  independent  genius  of  the 
family,  and  it  was  she  who  headed  the 
enterprise  of  rescuing  Evan,  their  brother, 
from  the  bondage  of  tailordom.  He  was  to 
123 


George  Meredith 

V. 

be  a  soldier,  and  meantime  he  "spent  the 
hours  not  devoted  to  his  positive  profession 
—  that  of  gentleman  —  in  the  offices  of  the 
brewery*  toying  with  big  books  and  bal- 
ances which  he  despised  with  the  combined 
zeal  of  the  sucking  soldier  and  emanci- 
pated tailor."  The  Countess  determined  to 
furnish  him  with  money,  if  not  with  a  title  ; 
she  took  him  to  Portugal  to  meet  Rose  Joce- 
lyn,  the  niece  of  the  British  representative 
there.  Rose  had  the  prospects  of  an  heiress, 
and  Evan  was  to  marry  money  in  her 
person. 

The  story  opens  with  the  return  of  the 
Countess,  her  husband  and  brother,  and  Miss 
Jocelyn,  in  the  company  of  the  Hon.  Melville 
Jocelyn,  the  diplomatist.  Rose  and  Evan  are 
already  close  friends,  and  the  aim  of  the 
Countess  is  to  secure  an  invitation  for  all  her 
party  to  Beckley  Court,  in  Hampshire,  the 
seat  of  the  Jocelyns,  where  she  hopes  to  bring 
off  the  engagement ;  Beckley  Court  is  not 
far  from  Lymport,  but  she  is  resolved  to  take 
the  risks  of  its  proximity  to  tailordom.  They 
are  met  at  London  by  the  news  of  the  great 
Mel's  death.  Evan  alone  goes  down  to  the 

124 


Evan  Harrington 

funeral.*  He  finds  that  the  evil  that  men  do 
lives  after  them.  The  great  Mel  has  left  a 
mass  of  debts,  which  Mrs.  Harrington  deter- 
mines her  son  is  to  clear  off.  He  shares  this 
honourable  impulse.  He  is  willing  enough  to 
enter  the  business  and  devote  himself  to  this 
enterprise.  But  his  father  has  left  another 
legacy,  in  the  shape  of  the  false  ambitions  and 
ideals  which  he  had  instilled  into  his  children. 
Evan  is  still  susceptible  to  these,  and  the 
interest  of  his  career  now  centres  upon  the 
uncertainty  as  to  which  course  he  is  strong 
enough  to  choose  and  to  keep.  Under  the 
influence  of  his  mother's  determination,  he 
decides  manfully  to  clear  his  father's  name, 
and,  with  a  view  to  this,  to  serve  in  the  London 
shop.  But  his  sisters  have  other  views.  The 
Countess  descends  upon  Lymport,  and, 
although  unable  to  intercept  Evan's  flight, 
manages  to  catch  him  at  a  cricket-match  and 
draw  him  in  her  train  to  Beckley  Court,  where 
Sir  Frank  and  Lady  Jocelyn  welcome  them  as 
friends  of  their  daughter  Rose.  Meantime, 

*  The  description  of  his  journey  and  his  postillion,  in  ch.  iv,  is 
Meredith 's  first  essay  in  the  "  open-road  adventures  "  which  he  afterwards 
reproduced  in  "Diana  of  the  Crossways," ;"  Lord  Ormont  and  his 
Aminta,"  and  "  The  Amazing  Marriage." 

125 


George  Meredith 

however,  Evan  has  publicly  called  himself  a 
tailor  *  in  the  hearing  of  some  young  men  at  an 
inn  who  chanced  to  quarrel  with  him  and  an 
eccentric  friend,  John  Raikes.  These  youths 
include  Harry,  a  brother  of  Rose,  and  Ferdin- 
and Laxley,  an  aristocratic  suitor  for  her  hand. 
They  are  naturally  amazed  to  find  the  "tailor" 
a  fellow-guest  at  Beckley  Court,  but  the 
Countess,  by  consummate  intriguing,  manages 
to  allay  their  suspicions  for  a  time.  She  enjoys 
the  sense  of  rank  at  Beckley  ;  a  visit  there 
gratifies  what  had  been  one  of  her  girlish 
dreams.  But  the  main  object  of  her  general- 
ship is  to  bring  Rose  and  Evan  together,  and 
Beckley  is  the  vantage-ground  for  the  engage- 
ment. Rose,  who  loves  Evan,  has  begun 
already  to  suspect  he  is  a  tradesman,  and  the 
persistent  hints  dropped  by  Laxley  and  the 
rest  confirm  her  idea.  Evan,  under  the 
delightful  influence  of  her  charm,  is  beginning 
to  forget  his  vows  to  tailordom  ;  his  surround- 
ings threaten  to  soften  the  fibre  of  his  resolve. 
But  meantime  Mr.  Tom  Cogglesby,  the  eccen- 

*  "He gathered  hi*  pride  u  a  cloak,  and  defied  the  world,  and  gloried 
in  the  sacrifice  that  degraded  him."  Later  on,  a  similar  infusion  of 
false  pride  spoil*  his  honourable  conduct  in  assuming  responsibility  for 
the  forged  letter. 

126 


Evan  Harrington 

trie  brother  of  Andrew,  proposes  anonymously 
to  pay  him  £360  a  year,  as  soon  as  he  puts  his 
name  over  the  shop  in  Lymport.  This  offer 
recalls  Evan  to  his  senses,  and,  by  the  medium 
of  Mr.  John  Raikes,*  he  accepts  it.  The  die 
now  seems  cast.  But  the  spell  of  Rose  is  not 
so  easily  broken ;  he  learns  from  her  maid 
that  she  suspects  his  trade,  and,  letting  his 
anger  at  Laxley  get  the  better  of  his  prudence, 
he  calls  himself  a  "gentleman,"  intending,  in 
all  sincerity,  to  leave  Beckley  for  London  the 
next  day.  The  wily  Countess  proves  too 
many  for  him,  however.  She  works  on  his 
love  for  Mrs.  Strike,  who  has  come  to  Beckley 
to  escape  further  ill-treatment  at  the  Major's 
hands.  He  must  not  leave  her  unprotected ! 
Both  sisters  have  to  suffer  torture  in  listening 
to  tales  of  the  great  Mel  told  by  unconscious 
guests  in  the  house,  but  Evan  is  made 
happy  by  confessing  his  love  to  Rose  and 
winning  hers  in  return.  He  then  summons 
up  courage  to  write  a  letter  to  her,  telling  her 


*  Raikes  has  been  heavily  criticised.  Henley  asserted  that  he  and 
Dr.  Shrapnel  were  "  two  of  the  most  flagrant  unrealities  ever  perpetrated 
in  the  name  of  fiction  by  an  artist  of  genius."  Shrapnel  may  be  left  behind. 
He  is  little  more  than  a  seven-foot  funnel  for  Meredith 's  social  philosophy. 
But  Raikes  has  blood  in  him-the  blood  of  Dickens. 

127 


George  Meredith 

frankly  the  whole  truth  about  his  birth  and 
position.  The  Countess  steals  the  letter,  and 
Evan,  supposing  that  Rose  has  received  it,  is 
relieved  to  find  she  makes  no  change  in  her 
bearing  to  him.  Rose  then  tells  her  mother 
about  her  engagement,  but  is  staggered,  a 
moment  afterwards,  to  learn  from  some  of 
the  guests  that  her  lover  is  a  tailor,  with  his 
name  over  a  shop  in  Lymport.  Rose  now  has 
to  face  her  ordeal.  Evan's  insinuations  had 
wakened  her  suspicions  even  in  Portugal,  and 
the  scene  on  board  the  ship — when  the  great 
Mel's  foreman,  in  announcing  his  death,  had 
mentioned  the  fatal  word  "shop" — had  half 
confirmed  her  suspicions.  But  her  love 
had  hitherto  felt  itself  strong  enough  to 
conquer  such  prejudices.  The  actual  news, 
however,  fills  her  with  a  sick  despair  ;  it 
looks  as  if  Evan  had  wooed  her  under  false 
pretences.  Evan  at  once  clears  himself  of 
duplicity  *  by  telling  her  orally  what  he  had 
written  to  her  in  the  purloined  letter,  and 


*  Rose,  like  Princess  Ottilia  in  "  The  Adventures  of  Harry  Rich- 
mond,"  can  bear  anything  except  concealment  or  dishonesty  (ch.  xxvii). 
Evan's  frankness  "  hurried  her  spirit  out  of  all  shows  and  forms,  and  habits 
of  thought,  up  to  the  gates  of  existence,  as  it  were,  where  she  took  him 
limply  as  God  had  created  him  and  her,  and  clave  to  him  "  (ch.  xxviii). 

128 


Evan  Harrington 

Rose,  sure  of  his  candour,  has  now  to  struggle 
against  the  class-prejudices  of  a  girl  who  finds 
herself  engaged  to  one  who  is  socially  her 
inferior.  "It  was  some  time  before  she  was 
was  able  to  get  free  from  the  trammels  of 
prejudice,  but  when  she  did,  she  did  without 
reserve,  saying  :  '  Evan,  there  is  no  man  who 
would  have  done  so  much,'  and  he  was  told 
that  he  was  better  loved  than  ever." 

The  troubles  of  the  lovers  are  not  yet  over, 
however.  Mrs.  Harrington,  on  hearing  that 
Evan  was  idling  at  a  country-house  instead 
of  attending  to  his  business  in  London,  starts 
for  Beckley  to  bring  her  son  to  his  senses. 
En  route  she  falls  in  with  the  eccentric  Tom 
Gogglesby,  who  also  is  on  his  way  to  visit 
Lady  Jocelyn  *  and  to  ascertain  the  conduct 
of  the  youth  who  had  bound  himself  to 
tailordom.  Old  Tom  promises  her  ladyship 
to  endow  Evan  with  a  thousand  a  year  at 
least,  if  Rose  is  allowed  to  marry  him,  but  the 


*  "Was  it  true  that  her  ladyship  had  behaved  rather  ill  to  old  Tom 
in  her  youth?  Excellent  women  have  been  naughty  girls,  and  young 
beauties  will  have  their  train.  It  is  also  very  possible  that  old  Tom  had 
presumed  upon  trifles  and  found  it  difficult  to  forgive  her  his  own  folly  " 
(ch.  xxviii).  He  had  attributed  her  rejection  of  him  to  the  fact  that  he  was  a 
cobbler's  son  ;  hence  he  takes  a  revenge  in  furthering  Rose's  marriage  to 
a  tailor  1 

i  129 


George  Meredith 

Jocelyns  disapprove  of  the  match,  and  Mrs. 
Mel  appears  at  a  picnic  to  claim  her  tailor-son 
for  the  career  to  which  he  had  pledged  his 
honour.  The  Countess,  exasperated  at  her 
brother  and  her  mother,  has  meantime  taken 
her  revenge  on  Laxley  by  forging  a  letter  in  his 
name.  (She  had  found,  on  looking  at  Rose's 
album,  that  Laxley's  writing  resembled  her 
own.)  Evan,  on  discovering  this  trick, 
quixotically  assumes  responsibility  for  the 
letter,  in  order  to  shield  his  sister's  name. 
His  engagement  is  at  once  broken  off,  and  the 
three  Harringtons  leave  Beckley  Court. 
Rose  is  stunned  by  the  revelation  of  what 
appears  to  be  Evan's  low-bred  deceit,  and  the 
only  person  who  disbelieves  in  his  confession 
is  Juliana  Bonner,  the  sickly  little  heiress  of 
the  Court,  who  has  a  morbid,  romantic,  and 
unrequited  passion  for  him. 

Thus  ends  the  fourth  act  of  the  comedy. 
Evan  now  becomes  a  tailor  in  London  ;  he 
is  done  with  Beckley  and  its  inmates.  But 
the  Countess,  with  the  aid  of  her  sisters, 
continues  to  keep  up  a  correspondence  with 
Juliana,  in  order  to  bring  the  latter  and  Evan 
together  and  so  win  Beckley  Court  in  the 
130 


Evan  Harrington 

end.  Rose  is  out  of  the  question ;  she  has 
practically  pledged  herself  to  Laxley,  and  be- 
sides she  is  no  longer  the  heiress.  Juliana 
dies,  however,  and  to  the  consternation  of 
the  Jocelyns,  she  is  found  to  have  bequeathed 
Beckley  Court  and  all  her  property  "to  Mr. 
Evan  Harrington,  of  Lymport,  tailor."  The 
Countess  is  overjoyed,  but  her  triumph  is 
short-lived.  Evan  rises  to  the  occasion.  He 
chivalrously  renounces  the  estate.  "Upon 
my  honour,"  says  Sir  Franks,  "  he  must  have 
the  soul  of  a  gentleman  !  There 's  nothing  he 
can  expect  in  return,  you  know  ! "  Whatever 
Evan  may  have  expected,  he  at  any  rate  wins 
Rose  ;  for,  when  the  Jocelyns  go  to  Lymport, 
to  thank  him  for  his  generosity,  she  hears  from 
his  own  lips*  the  true  tale  of  the  Laxley-letter, 
and  the  lovers  come  together.  The  curtain 
falls  on  the  hero  as  attache  to  the  Naples 
embassy. 

"  Most  youths  are  like  Pope's  women ;  they 
have  no  character  at  all."  This  verdict  of 
Meredith  is  truer  of  Wilfrid  Pole  and  Harry 
Richmond  than  of  Evan.  Like  the  latter  he 
is  managed  by  stronger  influences;  indeed 

*  Juliana  had  left  her  the  news  as  a  bitter  legacy. 

131 


George  Meredith 

Roy  Richmond's  intriguing  filled  Ottilia  with 
much  the  same  disgust  as  the  Countess  de 
Saldar's  vulgar  scheming  threatened  to  stir  in 
the  honest  Rose,  who  was  tempted  to  think 
hardly  of  a  brother  who  had  such  a  sister  for 
his  ally.  But  Evan  has  fibre  and  grit  in  him. 
Besides,  he  is  steadied  by  his  true  love  for 
Rose  as  well  as  by  the  determined  honesty  of 
his  mother,  which  saves  him  at  the  expense 
of  his  dignity.  Love  furnishes  the  real  ordeal, 
however,  and  it  brings  out  the  best  as  well  as 
the  worst  in  him,  purifying  the  latter.  The 
hinge  of  the  plot  is,  will  Evan  be  a  man,  as 
well  as  a  gentleman?  He  has  the  makings 
of  the  latter,  and,  once  his  early  weakness 
and  false  pride  *  are  overcome,  he  regains  his 
self-respect  and,  with  it,  his  moral  force  of 
character. 

Rose's  conduct  from  the  moment  of  Evan's 
confession  becomes  rather  unconvincing,  and 
the  end  of  the  story  is  huddled  up,  as  too  often 
happens  in  Meredith ;  the  lovers  are  flung  to- 
gether by  a  sort  of  accident.  But  the  courage 
of  her  love  entitles  her  to  happiness.  She 

•  "  Pride  WM  the  one  developed  faculty  of  Evan's  nature.    The  Fates 
who  mould  m,  always  work  from  the  mainspring  "  (ch.  vi). 

132 


Evan  Harrington 

masters  the  fear  of  ridicule  as  Evan  does  in 
his  own  way.  Love  had  set  for  her  as  for 
him  a  moral  test,  even  though  the  details  of 
the  test  seem  paltry  enough.  She  had  to  de- 
cide "whether  it  was  really  in  Nature's  power, 
unaided  by  family-portraits,  coats-of-arms, 
ball-room  practice,  and  at  least  one  small 
phial  of  essence  of  society,  to  make  a  gentle- 
man." By  her  truthfulness  to  the  facts  of 
life,  she  wins  clear  of  the  unrealities  and  con- 
ventions which  beset  her  position,  and  thus, 
unlike  Ottilia,  retains  her  lover.  At  the  same 
time  her  task  must  be  admitted  to  have  been 
easier  in  some  respects  than  that  of  the  German 
princess ;  Evan  could  play  the  second  fiddle 
better  than  Harry  Richmond  ever  learnt  to 
do,  and  besides  the  social  gulf  between  Rose 
and  Evan  was  more  easily  bridged  than  in 
the  case  of  the  other  pair. 

But  the  glory — though  it  is  a  spotted  glory — 
of  the  novel  is  the  character  of  the  Countess, 
a  superb  adventuress,  with  her  sentimental 
aspirations  for  society,  her  vulgarity,  and  her 
unscrupulous  scheming.  Tous  les  comediens 
ne  sont  pas  au  theatre.  The  Countess  is  an 
actress  of  high  rank  in  the  social  comedy. 
133 


George  Meredith 

She  might  have  stepped  out  of  Thackeray's 
pages,  but,  while  Becky  Sharp  fights  for  her 
own  hand,  the  Countess  has  a  larger  scheme 
in  view  ;  she  is  bent  on  carrying  her  family, 
especially  her  brother,  out  of  the  cold  shades 
of  Tailordom  into  the  warm  paradise  of  So- 
ciety. The  Comic  Spirit  revels  in  her,  and 
Meredith  lets  her  reveal  herself  in  letters  as 
well  as  in  conversation.  "I  hope  I  shall  be 
pardoned,"  she  writes,  "but  it  always  seems 
to  me  that  what  we  have  to  endure  is  infinitely 
worse  than  any  other  suffering,  for  you  find 
no  comfort  for  the  children  of  T — s  in  Scrip- 
ture, nor  any  defence  of  their  dreadful  position. 
Robbers,  thieves,  Magdalens !  but,  no !  the 
unfortunate  offspring  of  that  class  are  not  even 
mentioned  ;  at  least,  in  my  most  diligent  peru- 
sal of  the  Scriptures,  I  never  lighted  upon 
any  remote  allusion,  and  we  know  the  Jews 
did  wear  clothing."  Her  nauseous  affectation 
of  religion  prepares  us  for  her  final  move  into 
the  Roman  Church  where  she  finds  gentility  * 


•  The  sentimental  Cornelia  Pole, in  "Sandra  Belloni"  (ch.  xvii).  sighs 
over  Mrs.  Chump  :  "  Do  you  know,  my  feeling  is,  and  I  cannot  at  all  ac- 
count for  it.  that  if  she  were  a  Catholic,  she  would  not  seem  so  gross." 
Constance  Asper  thought  of  becoming  a  nun  when  Percy  seemed  to  jilt 
her  for  Diana  Warwick. 

134 


Evan  Harrington 

and  peace  of  mind — a  proceeding  which  here, 
as  in  "The  Amazing  Marriage,"  Meredith 
traces  to  rank  sentimen talism.  "  It  is  the  sweet 
sovereign  Pontiff  alone  who  gathers  all  in  his 
arms,  not  excepting  tailors.  Here,  if  they 
could  but  know  it,  is  their  blessed  comfort ! 
.  .  .  Postscript :  I  am  persuaded  of  this  ;  that 
it  is  utterly  impossible  for  a  man  to  be  a  true 
gentleman  who  is  not  of  the  true  Church.  .  .  . 
Whatever  Evan  may  think  of  himself,  or  Rose 
think  of  him,  I  know  the  thing. "  This  scathing 
exposure  of  sentimentalism  in  its  religious,  or 
rather  pseudo-religious  phase,  echoes  the  third 
last  paragraph  of  "Vanity  Fair,"  though  Becky 
evidently  did  not  "know  the  thing." 

Her  mother's  unflinching  sincerity*  and 
Lady  Jocelyn's  transparent  magnanimity  are 
an  adequate  foil  to  Louisa's  trickery.  Of  the 
minor  characters,  Jack  Raikes  has  a  r6le  sim- 
ilar to  that  of  Brain  top  in  "  Sandra  Belloni," 
but  he  might  have  been  the  brother  of  Dick 
Swiveller ;  in  him  as  in  the  eccentric  brothers 
Cogglesby,  Meredith  has  indulged  in  a  broad 
humour  which  becomes  riotous  farce,  and 

*  The  picnic-scene  (ch.  T-TT — mi)  is  parallel  to  the  similar  episode  in 
"  Sandra  Belloni "  (ch.  mi— xmi),  when  Mrs.  Champ  appears  at  the  fete. 

135 


George  Meredith 

this  is  barely  tempered  by  the  pathetic,  morbid 
little  figure  of  Juliana  Bonner.  Her  fate 
resembles  that  of  Clare  Doria  Forey  in  the 
preceding  novel,*  but  she  is  spiteful  in  her  rela- 
tions to  Rose,  as  Clare  never  could  have  been. 

The  most  notable  passages  in  the  novel,  so 
far  as  description  goes,  are  the  fantastic  di- 
gression upon  habits  (ch.  viii),  the  opening  of 
ch.  x,  the  wine-chapter  (ch.  xii),t  the  cricket- 
match  (ch.  xiii),  the  love-scene  between  Rose 
and  Evan  beside  the  stream  (ch.  xxiii),  and 
the  various  inn-episodes  at  the  Green  Dragon, 
the  Aurora,  and  the  Dolphin. 

The  Spanish  story,  to  which  the  Duke  al- 
ludes in  ch.  xxii,  is  told  of  Villamediana  (1582 
— 1622),  who,  during  a  fire  which  took  place 
at  the  performance  of  one  of  his  masques  in 
1622,  gallantly  carried  out  Queen  Isabel  de 
Bourbon.  The  Queen  had  been  acting  in  the 
play.  For  this  and  other  indiscretions  the 
cavalier  had  to  pay  with  his  life. 

*  There  is  another  minor  parallel.  One  touch  of  nature  makes  the 
sexes  kin.  Lady  Jocelyn  (in  eh.  xvii),  note*  that  the  Countess  it  a  female 
euphuist  in  her  talk.  "  She  ha*  made  a  capital  selection  of  her  vocabulary 
from  Johnson."  Berry,  Sir  Austin  Feverel's  valet,  also  uses  dictionary 
words,  which  he  collects  from  a  pocket-Johnson. 

t  "  Both  Ale  and  Eve  seem  to  speak  imperiously  to  the  soul  of  man.  See 
that  they  be  good,  see  that  they  come  in  season,  and  we  bow  to  the  con* 

136 


SANDRA  BELLONI 


Sandra  Belloni 

THIS  novel,  which  originally  appeared  in 
1864  under  the  title  of  "Emilia  in 
England,"  is  the  only  story  which  Meredith 
furnished  with  a  sequel.  After  publishing 
"Evan  Harrington,"  he  wrote  nothing  but 
poetry  for  three  years,  and  then  published 
three  novels  in  three  years,  "  Rhoda  Fleming" 
intervening  between  the  two  "Emilia"  books. 
Both  of  the  latter  throb  with  that  keen  sympa- 
thy for  the  Italians  in  their  struggle  for  liberty 
which  Meredith  had  already  voiced  incident- 
ally in  "The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel," 
where  Richard  and  Lady  Judith  Felle  sighed 
sentimentally  over  the  plight  of  Italy.  "Who 
has  not  wept  for  Italy  ?  I  see  the  aspirations 
of  a  world  arise  for  her,  thick  and  frequent  as 
the  puffs  of  smoke  from  cigars  of  Pannonian 
sentries."  Emilia's  passion  for  Italy  is  the 
central  theme  of  "  Sandra  Belloni "  as  well  as 
of  its  sequel.  "  Whenever  I  think  of  Italy, 
139 


George  Meredith 

night  or  day,  pant-pant  goes  my  heart.  The 
name  of  Italy  is  my  nightingale :  I  feel  that 
somebody  lives  that  I  love,  and  is  ill-treated 
shamefully,  crying  out  to  me  for  help."  The 
very  phrases  about  Emilia  run  into  poetry. 
Her  wonderful  figure  dominates  this  novel, 
even  when  she  is  off  the  scene,  and  the  variety 
of  comedy,  burlesque,  pathos,  and  even  tra- 
gedy which  Meredith  has  crowded  into  its 
pages  runs  up  in  the  end  into  the  single  im- 
pression of  the  heroine's  personality.  She 
represents  the  artistic  temperament  combined 
with  a  soul,  with  a  deep  passion  for  her 
country  and  with  the  power  of  inspiring  and 
enjoying  human  affections.  James  Thomson 
declared,  "For  integral  grandeur  and  origin- 
ality of  conception,  and  for  perfectness  of 
execution,  the  heroine  of  his  "Emilia"  appears 
to  me  the  sovereign  character  of  our  modern 
fiction."  This  is  too  largely  said.  Even  if  the 
range  of  comparison  is  narrowed  to  Meredith's 
own  fiction,  Diana  would  dispute  the  primacy 
of  Emilia.*  Into  both  women  Meredith  has 

*  Both  can  be  impulsive  and  at  the  same  time  are  capable  of  aplomb  and 
coolness.  Powys  told  Emilia  that  she  should  never  act  from  an  impulse 
which  was  not  the  impulse  of  all  her  nature.  She  needed  the  advice,  and 
Meredith  constantly  shows  how  his  best  women-characters  take  long  to 
decide  on  a  course  of  importance. 

140 


Sandra  Belloni 

put  a  great  deal  of  his  own  heart  and  soul, 
and  many — perhaps  from  insular  prejudice — 
will  prefer  the  Irish  beauty  to  the  Italian,  the 
novelist  to  the  singer.  Thomson  carries  us 
with  him,  however,  in  the  comment  on 
Meredith's  style  which  he  published  in  his 
"  Note  on  George  Meredith"  (1876),  reprinted 
in  his  "  Essays  and  Phantasies,"  a  comment 
which  applies  pre-eminently  to  this  novel  and 
its  predecessor.  "His  style  is  very  various  and 
flexible,  flowing  freely  in  whatever  measures 
the  subject  and  the  mood  may  dictate.  At 
its  best  it  is  so  beautiful  in  simplest  Saxon,  so 
majestic  in  rhythm,  so  noble  with  noble  ima- 
gery, so  pregnant  with  meaning,  so  vital  and 
intense,  that  it  must  be  ranked  among  the 
supreme  achievements  of  our  literature." 
The  outline  of  the  story  is  as  follows  : 
Emilia  Alessandra  Belloni  is  the  daughter 
of  Guiseppe  Belloni,  an  Italian  revolutionary ; 
her  English*  mother  had  married  him  after 
he  had  been  obliged  to  fly  as  an  exile  to 


*  Partly  Welsh,  it  appears.  This  is  one  of  the  traits  which  afterwards 
drew  her  to  Merthyr  Powys  and  Georgiana.  "All  subtle  feelings  are 
discerned  by  Welsh  eyes  when  untroubled  by  any  mental  agitation. 
Brother  and  sister  were  Welsh,  and  I  may  observe  that  there  is  human 
nature  and  Welsh  nature  "  (ch.  zzviii). 

141 


George  Meredith 

London.*  He  is  a  violinist  in  the  orchestra  of 
the  Italian  Opera,  but  becomes  a  drunken 
wretch,  who  wishes  to  make  capital  dishon- 
ourably out  of  his  daughter's  musical  talent 
She  escapes  from  him  into  the  country,  where 
her  singing  is  overheard  by  the  daughters  and 
the  partner  of  Mr.  Pole,  a  wealthy  London 
merchant,  whose  estate  is  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. The  daughters  simply  wish  to  exploit 
her  music  in  order  to  advance  their  own  social 
ambitions,  but  Mr.  Pericles,  their  father's 
partner,  has  higher  aims  for  her.  Antonio  Peri- 
cles Agriopoulos  is  a  Greek  who  has  an  over- 
powering passion  for  music ;  he  "  held  millions 
of  money  as  dust  compared  to  a  human  voice," 
and,  in  his  rapture  over  Emilia's  singing,  he 
proposes  to  dominate  her  career.  He  will 
train  her  to  be  a  queen  of  opera.  "  Yeaz  !  I 
am  made  my  mind  !  I  send  her  abroad  to  ze 
Academic  for  one,  two,  tree  year.  She  shall 
be  instructed  as  was  not  before.  Zen  a  noise 
at  La  Scala.  No— Paris !  No— London !  She 
shall  astonish  London  fairst. — Yez  !  if  I  take 
a  theatre !  Yez !  if  I  buy  a  newspaper !  Yez  ! 


in  Enil.nd." 

142 


abled  that  described  by  Brownin*  in  "The  Itali.n 


Sandra  Belloni 

if  I  pay  feefty-sossand  pound ! "  He  gets  her 
father's  consent  to  take  her  to  Italy.  But, 
unluckily  for  the  connoisseur's  programme, 
Emilia  loses  her  heart  to  Wilfrid  Pole,  a 
young  soldier,  who  loves  his  sister's  protegee 
in  a  gallant,  sentimental  fashion.  His  own 
prospects,  however,  and  a  sense  of  duty  to 
his  father,  oblige  him  at  the  same  time  to  en- 
tangle himself  with  Lady  Charlotte  Chilling- 
worth,*  with  whom  he  has  been  philandering. 
Emilia,  who  has  given  up  Italy  for  his  sake, 
is  at  first  incredulous  ;  her  trustful  nature  is 
shocked  by  the  revelation  of  her  lover's  du- 
plicity, which  for  a  long  while  she  refuses  to 
credit.  Her  appeal  to  Mr.  Pole  drives  the 
merchant  into  a  fit ;  his  affairs  make  it  neces- 
sary that  Lady  Charlotte  should  be  Wilfrid's 
wife.  Emilia  meantime  is  rescued  from  her 
father,  who  is  acting  in  the  interests  of 

*  Lady  Charlotte  at  first  seems  to  belong  to  the  class  of  the  de  Courcy s 
whom  Trollope  delighted  to  pourtray,  bat  Meredith  develops  her  character 
with  some  subtlety.  Wilfrid,  he  says,  was  not  in  love  with  her  :  he  was 
•imply  in  harness  to  her,  feeling  that  her  strength  of  character  brought  out 
something  in  himself.  She  saw  his  faults  bnt  liked  him  none  the  less  that 
she  felt  she  could  help  him  and  be  a  mate  for  him.  What  disgusted  her  was 
his  double-dealing.  She  was  too  generous  to  be  jealous  of  Emilia,  even 
when  the  latter  fascinated  Wilfrid  away  from  her.  "  Being  of  a  nature 
leaning  to  great-mindedmess,  though  not  of  the  first  rank,  she  could  not 
meanly  mask  her  own  deficiency  by  despising  it.  To  do  this  is  the  secret 
evil  by  which  souls  of  men  and  women  stop  their  growth." 

143 


George  Meredith 

Pericles,  and  Lady  Charlotte,  in  order  to 
spare  her  feelings  and  to  cure  her  of  her 
infatuation  for  the  youth,  arranges  for  her  to 
overhear  Wilfrid's  declaration  to  herself  at 
an  inn  in  Dover.  The  poor  girl,  on  being 
convinced  of  his  treachery!  collapses  under 
the  shock,  and  flies  to  London,  where  she 
nurses  her  despair  under  the  protection  of  an 
Italian  patriot,  Marini,  and  his  wife,  who  had 
already  rescued  her  from  the  machinations  of 
her  father.  She  clings  to  the  consolation  that 
if  she  has  lost  her  lover,  she  still  has  her 
voice.  The  proposal  of  Pericles  now  appears 
to  be  her  one  chance  of  happiness  ;  she  goes 
to  his  office  and  offers  to  accept  his  programme. 
But  the  strain  of  the  past  few  months  and  a 
severe  cold  have  temporarily  affected  her 
throat.  Pericles,  who  has  followed  Belloni 
in  a  wild-goose  chase  after  Emilia,  is  naturally 
exasperated  at  her  silly  philandering  with 
Wilfrid  as  well  as  at  her  misuse  of  her  voice ; 
he  rudely  dismisses  her,  with  the  threat  that 
he  will  put  her  father  on  her  track.  "You 
shall  go  to  old  Belloni ;  and,  crack,  if  ze 
voice  will  come  back  to  a  whip, — bravo,  old 
Belloni ! "  Terrified  at  the  thought  of  falling 
144 


Sandra  Belloni 

once  more  into  her  father's  clutches,  Emilia 
tries  to  hide  herself  in  London,  She  is  eventu- 
ally rescued  by  Merthyr  Powys,  a  Welsh 
squire  who  loves  Italy ;  he  has  befriended  her 
from  the  first  with  a  loyal,  unselfish  affection, 
and  now  carries  her  off  to  stay  with  his  half- 
sister,*  where  she  may  regain  her  health  and 
self-confidence  before  travelling  with  them  to 
begin  her  studies  in  Italy. 

Emilia,  however,  is  destined  to  reach  Italy 
in  another  way.  She  learns  accidentally  that 
Wilfrid  proposes  to  enter  the  Austrian  army, 
where  his  uncle  is  a  general.  This  news  hurts 
her  far  more  than  the  prospect  of  his  marriage 
to  Lady  Charlotte.  She  cannot  bear  to  think  of 
him  serving  against  her  beloved  Italy,  and,  in  a 
paroxysm  of  patriotic  emotion,  she  promises 
Wilfrid  that  she  will  stay  in  England  if  he  re- 
fuses to  wear  the  Austrian  white  coat.  Wilfrid, 
who  has  been  hanging  about  her  for  months, 
takes  advantage  of  her  promise  and  agrees  to 
the  stipulation ;  as  Powys  has  left  for  Italy, 
he  thinks  the  coast  is  now  clear  for  a  resump- 


*  Georgians  Ford  is  a  sterling  woman,  who  a  great  enough  to  overcome 
her  jealousy  of  Emilia  and  her  dislike  of  Italian  revolutions,  out  of  sheer 
loyalty  to  Merthyr. 

J  145 


George  Meredith 

tion  of  his  own  courtship.  Emilia  soon  feels 
the  bondage  of  her  impulse  and  hasty  promise. 
The  folly  of  it  dawns  on  her,  when  she  realises 
that  her  heart  is  in  Italy,  where  an  uprising 
of  the  patriots  has  taken  place ;  but  she  is 
chained  by  her  word,  and  Wilfrid  selfishly 
refuses  to  release  her.  At  last  she  summons 
up  courage  to  break  her  promise.  Before  she 
leaves  England,  however,  she  is  able  to  come 
to  the  aid  of  Mr.  Pole  and  his  family,  who  are 
in  danger  of  being  ruined  by  Pericles.  Mr. 
Pole,  in  order  to  marry  off  his  children  grandly 
and  to  maintain  the  extravagant  household  on 
which  his  daughters  insist,  has  been  tempted 
to  speculate  and  to  misappropriate  trust-funds 
belonging  to  a  vulgar,  Irish  widow,  Mrs. 
Chump.  Pericles,  exasperated  at  the  Poles, 
and  especially  Wilfrid,  for  having  ruined 
Emilia's  career,  refuses  to  pay  up  what  his 
partner  owes.  At  this  crisis,  Emilia's  voice 
returns  to  her;  she  arranges  for  Pericles  to 
overhear  her,*  and  the  Greek,  overjoyed  at 
the  prospect  of  saving  her  for  her  true 

*  Thii  scene,  entitled  "  Frost  on  •  May  Night  "  (ch.  Iviii),  recalls  not 
only  the  opening  episode  of  the  novel,  but  the  poem  entitled  "  A  Night  of 
Frost  in  May,"  where,  as  in  "  Farina."  Meredith  describes  in  inimitable 
words  the  tinting  of  the  nightingales. 

146 


Sandra  Belloni 

vocation,  promises  to  settle  Mr.  Pole's  affairs, 
provided  that  Emilia  will  accompany  her 
mother  to  the  Milan  Conservatorio  and  for 
three  years  put  her  art  above  politics  and 
love-making.*  Emilia  thus  leaves  for  Italy 
under  the  auspices  of  Pericles,  not  of  Powys. 
The  closing  episode  of  the  novel  enables 
Meredith  to  administer  his  final  blow  to  the 
vanity  of  the  Misses  Pole.  These  superfine 
ladies,  who  affected  to  despise  Emilia  and  who 
patronised  her  simply  for  the  sake  of  the 
social  credit  they  hoped  to  win  from  her,  live 
to  see  their  pride  and  sentimentalism  shat- 
tered, and  are  forced  to  accept  deliverance 
from  ruin  at  the  hand  of  this  unselfish  and 
forgiving  little  lady.  "Sandra  Belloni "  is 
Meredith's  full-length  study  of  sentimentalism, 
in  its  tragic  as  well  as  its  comic  aspects.  He 
scourges  the  social  pretensions  of  the  par- 
venus, indeed  ;  but  this  is  done  elsewhere  in 
the  novels,  and  the  group  of  the  Misses  Pole, 
especially  Cornelia,  is  selected  as  typical  of 

*  "  It  is  a  little  grief  to  me  that  I  think  this  man  loves  music  more  deeply 
than  I  do."  This  confession,  made  in  her  letter  to  Powys  (ch.  lix),  will  be 
better  understood  when  "  Victoria  "  is  read.  The  letter  itself,  with  its 
outpouring  of  frank  and  shy  affection,  makes  it  more  difficult  than  ever  to 
understand  how  the  writer  of  it  could  treat  Powys  as  she  did  afterwards  in 
Italy  ;  in  this  respect  she  falls  below  the  level  of  Diana  and  Carinthia. 

147 


George  Meredith 

the  feminine  sentimentalist  in  full  blossom, 
who  finds  herself  in  the  end  the  prey  of  un- 
realities, and  entangled  in  hypocrisies,  deceits, 
and  suffering.  Meredith  suggests  that  they 
inherited  this  tendency.  Their  father,  he 
remarks,  "was  one  of  those  men  who  have 
no  mental,  little  moral,  feeling.  With  him 
feeling  was  almost  entirely  physical,  as  it  was 
intensely  so.  That  is  the  key  to  Mr.  Pole, 
and  to  not  a  few  besides.  It  is  certainly  a 
degree  in  advance  of  no  feeling  at  all,  and  may 
give  to  many  people  who  are  never  tried,  the 
reputation  of  good  parents,  jolly  friends,  ex- 
cellent citizens."  *  Mr.  Pole  and  his  family, 
however,  had  the  misfortune  to  be  tried. 

Like  the  three  daughters  of  the  great  Mel, 
the  Misses  Pole  have  a  brother.  Wilfrid 
is  depicted  as  the  youthful  sentimentalist  in 
love,  an  egoist  of  Sir  Willoughby  Patterne's 
type  upon  the  minor  scale,  and  Meredith  has 
etched  him  to  the  very  quick.  Like 
Evan,  he  is  in  the  unformed  period  of  life, 

*  "  He  was  neat,  insignificant,  and  nervously  cheerful :  with  the  eyes  of 
a  bird,  that  let  yon  into  no  interior  "  (ch.  xiv).  Andrew  Cogglesby  was 
another  kind  of  bird  :  "he  eyed  every  man  living  with  the  benevolence  of 
a  patriarch,  dashed  with  the  impudence  of  a  London  sparrow"  ("Evan 
Harrington."  ch.  viii). 

148 


Sandra  Belloni 

but  the  tailor  comes  out  of  it  better  than  the 
cornet ;  while  Evan  rises  to  the  occasion, 
Wilfrid  proves  too  much  of  a  sentimentalist 
to  retain  any  deep  impressions.  He  liked  to 
be  comfortable  and  to  feel  himself  important, 
either  as  Lady  Charlotte's  husband  or  as  the 
champion  of  Emilia.  He  was  not  so  much  a 
coxcomb,  says  Meredith,  as  a  man  who  was 
desperately  afraid  of  ridicule  and  fond  of 
sentiment ;  his  gallantry  and  courage  were 
handicapped  by  these  weaknesses,  and  he  was 
very  properly  jilted  by  both  the  women  with 
whom  he  trifled.  In  ch.  liii  a  farcical  appli- 
cation of  this  anti-sentimental  philosophy  is 
thrown  out,  by  way  of  interlude,  but  Meredith 
elsewhere  analyses  it  with  some  seriousness. 
The  false  and  fantastic  passion  of  sentiment  he 
calls  "  riding  on  the  Hippogriff"  (see  chapters 
xliv  and  li).  Real  passion  is  "noble strength 
on  fire,"  and  it  never  makes  its  possessor  un- 
natural or  artificial.  It  "may  tug  against 
commonsense  but  is  never,  in  a  great  nature, 
divorced  from  it."  The  sentimentalist,  on 
the  contrary,  unconsciously  loves  feeling  for 
feeling's  sake ;  he  becomes  high-flying  and 
absurd  in  his  demands  to  have  it  gratified ; 
149 


George  Meredith 

what  excites  him  is  not  the  object  itself  so 
much  as  the  emotions  which  it  is  able  to  excite 
in  him,  and  this  morbid  craving  prevents  him 
from  realizing  his  proper  condition  as  well  as 
from  appreciating  the  profound  passion  which 
lifts  and  sustains  human  nature  in  the  pursuit 
of  a  worthy  object.  The  spurious  passion  of 
the  sentimentalist  confines  him  to  the  circle 
of  his  own  emotions.  It  renders  him  irritable, 
short-sighted,  and  essentially  selfish. 

The  forty-fourth  chapter  also  reveals  an- 
other vein  of  Meredith's  mind.  German 
sentimentalism,  as  Richter  wittily  observed, 
inculcated  "a  universal  love  for  all  men  and 
all  beasts  —  except  reviewers."  Meredith 
loathed  sentimentalism  but  he  was  at  one 
with  it  in  making  this  exception,  and  "  Sandra 
Belloni"  contains  the  first  of  the  sarcastic, 
almost  bitter,  comments  upon  English  review- 
ers (as  well  as  upon  the  English  public)  which 
spurt  up  throughout  the  later  novels,  when- 
ever the  author  feels  obliged  to  defend  his 
own  psychological  method  (see  above  p.  114). 
In  his  review  of  "Owen  Meredith's"  poetical 
effusions,  four  years  later,  he  wrote  :  "  Re- 
viewers of  poetry  are  always  able  men — able 
150 


Sandra  Belloni 

to  express  their  opinions— and  between  heavy 
puffs  and  contemptuous  notices,  the  public 
gains  from  them  in  the  end  some  approximate 
idea  of  a  poet's  value."  This  is  less  truculent 
than  the  paragraph  in  ch.  xliii  of  "Sandra 
Belloni " ;  but  he  did  not  always  rein  in  his 
scorn  for  reviewers  of  fiction  so  successfully.  * 
Tracy  Runningbrook,  in  this  novel,  is,  like 
Agostino  and  even  Lydiard  afterwards,  a  finer 
plant  than  Diaper  Sandoe  in  "The  Ordeal  of 
Richard  Feverel,"  but  he  is  less  attractive 
than  the  young  Arthur  Rhodes  whom  Diana 
generously  championed .  There  is  more  about 
music  than  about  poetry»  however,  from  the 
passage  on  the  drum  (ch.  ix)  to  the  eulogy  of 
Beethoven  and  the  description  of  Emilia  play- 
ing on  the  harp  in  the  booth  (ch.  xi).  The 
operatic  stars  appear  in  ch.  xxxii  as  they  do 
later  in  "One  of  Our  Conquerors"  (ch.  xx). 
Sir  Purcell  is  an  organist  but  it  was  not  till 
the  twelfth  chapter  of  "  Beauchamp's  Career  " 
that  Meredith  elaborated  his  philosophy  of 
the  organ  as  a  symbol  of  monarchism.  The 


*  Art-critics  get  their  passing  flick  of  the  whip  in  the  fifth  chapter  of 
"One  of  Our  Conquerors."  They  are  "sometimes  unanimous,  and  are 
then  taken  for  guides,  and  are  fatal." 

151 


George  Meredith 

zither  is  described  in  the  twenty  •  seventh 
chapter  of  "  Vittoria,"  and  in  the  forty-fifth 
chapter  of  that  novel  the  effect  of  the  military 
drum  is  analysed. 

In  Mrs.  Chump,  the  stout,  coarse,  good- 
hearted  Irish  widow,  Meredith  has  given  play 
to  the  element  of  farce  which  he  had  indulged 
with  such  riotous  effects  in  "  Evan  Har- 
rington." Mrs.  Chump  is  drawn  in  broad 
caricature ;  her  blue  satin,  her  brogue,  her 
love  of  liquor,  her  ill-concealed  affection  for 
poor  Mr.  Pole,  and  her  distressing  frankness 
of  speech,  all  drive  the  ladies  of  Brookfield 
out  of  "fine  shades  and  nice  feelings "  into  an 
inferno  of  torture.  Mrs.  Chump  does  not  see 
why  she  should  not  become  the  second  Mrs. 
Pole,  and  her  suspicions  of  Mr.  Pole's  honesty 
give  her  a  hold  upon  that  distracted  gentleman 
which  makes  her,  as  well  as  Emilia,  an  instru- 
ment of  retribution  upon  the  ladies  who  had 
formerly  scorned  and  insulted  her.  The 
scenes  at  the  supper  (ch.  xxxii)  and  with 
Braintop  (ch.  xxxv)  *  show  her  at  her  richest ; 

*  The  theatre-scene  (ch.  zxv),  where  the  amorous  clerk  gazes  up  at 
Emilia,  is  oddly  reminiscent  of  the  similar  scene  in  "  Bleak  House"  (ch. 
ziii).  But  Mr.  Gappy  was  not  so  careful  of  his  locks  and  general  appear- 
ance  as  Braintop  was. 

152 


Sandra  Belloni 

but  she  is  always  vital,  and  her  naturalness 
forms  a  foil  to  the  silly  affectation  and  artifici- 
ality of  the  Misses  Pole,*  just  as  the  sterling 
chivalry  of  Merthyr  Powys  and  even  the 
artistic  enthusiasm  of  Pericles  are  meant  to 
throw  Wilfrid's  shallowness  into  sharp  relief. 
The  suicide  of  SirPurcell  Barrett,  Cornelia's 
rejected  lover,  comes  with  an  unexpected 
shock,  but  Meredith  evidently  intended  from 
the  first  to  strike  this  sterner  note.  Pride  and 
sentimentalism  are  an  opening  for  more  than 
laughter,  he  insists  ;  they  may  lead  to  tragedy 
as  well  as  to  social  complications.  The  yacht- 
episode,  on  the  other  hand,  is  out  of  proportion, 
and  the  description  of  Mr.  Pole's  illness  leans 
to  the  long  side,  but  the  country-house  scenes 
are  as  rich  as  in  "  Evan  Harrington,"  and  the 
fencing  between  the  Tinleys  and  the  Poles 
shows  Mr.  Meredith's  dramatic  power  at  its 
very  best  upon  the  petty  scale.  The  beer- 
chapters  (viii,  ix,  and  xi)  recall  the  eighth  poem 
of  "Modern  Love,"  which  had  been  pub- 


*  "Why,"  Mrs.  Chomp  expostulates,  "  if  they  was  to  be  married  at  the 
altar,  they'd  stare  and  be  'ffendud  if  ye  asked  them  if  they  was  thinking 
of  their  husbands,  they  would !  '  Oh,  dear,  no  !  and  ye'  re  mistaken,  and 
we  're  thinkin*  o'  the  coal-scuttle  in  the  back  parlour,'— or  somethin'  •boot 
souls,  if  not  coals." 

153 


George  Meredith 

lished  two  years  earlier,  and  the  twentieth 
poem  of  that  series  ("That  man  I  do  suspect 
A  coward  who  would  burden  the  poor  deuce 
With  what  ensues  from  his  own  slipperiness  ") 
anticipates  the  analysis  of  Sir  Purcell  in  the 
beginning  of  ch.  Iv.  The  absurdity  of  re- 
proaching Providence  for  our  mishaps  had 
been  already  noticed  in  "Evan  Harrington" 
(ch.  x),  however,  and  Meredith  stops  to  under- 
line it  more  than  once  in  the  later  novels,  just 
as  the  passage  on  adversity  in  ch.  xviii  ("  This 
fellow  had  been  fattening  all  his  life  on  pros- 
perity ;  the  very  best  dish  in  the  world  :  but 
it  does  not  prove  us,"  etc.)  is  a  prose  variation 
on  the  theme  of  "  Hard  Weather  "  and  "The 
Empty  Purse"  ("A  Conservative  youth  !  who 
the  cream-bowl  skimmed,  Desiring  affairs  to 
be  left  as  they  are,"  etc.) 


154 


RHODA  FLEMING 


Rhoda  Fleming. 

TN  "  Rhoda  Fleming,"  published  the  year 
-*-  after  "Emilia  in  England,"  Meredith 
essayed  the  delicate  and  difficult  task  of  des- 
cribing the  innate  purity  of  a  woman  after  a 
moral  lapse.  The  story  is  superior  in  grasp 
and  strength  to  Mrs.  Gaskell's  "Ruth"; 
the  difference  of  scale  makes  it  less  easy 
to  compare  it  with  "Adam  Bede,"  but  the 
outstanding  feature  of  its  treatment  is  the 
prominence  assigned  to  the  punishment 
not  of  the  woman  so  much  as  of  the  man. 
Unlike  his  own  "enamoured sage, "Meredith 
never  passes  his  honest  readers  "  through  the 


•  Compare  "  Ode*  in  Contribution  to  the  Song  of  French  HUtory  ' 
(1898).  page  58,  with  their  description  of  France  im  1870  :— 

"  She  see*  what  seed  long  sown,  ripened  of  late. 
Bears  this  fierce  crop  ;  and  she  discerns  her  fate 
From  origin  to  agony,  and  on 
Aa  far  as  the  wave  washes  long  and  wan 
Off  one  disaitrons  impulse  :  for  of  wave* 
Our  life  is,  and  our  deeds  are  pregnant  grave* 
Blown  rolling  to  the  sunset  from  the  dawa." 

157 


George  Meredith 

sermon's  dull  defile,"  but  this  poignant  tale* 
reads  like  a  lay-sermon  on  the  text :  "Be  not 
deceived ;  God  is  not  mocked ;  for  what  a 
man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap."  Edward 
Blancove  has  a  remorse  like  that  of  Lovelace 
in  Richardson's  great  novel,  but  his  punish- 
ment resembles  that  meted  out  to  Lord 
Fleetwood  in  "The  Amazing  Marriage"; 
both  repent  too  late. 

Dahlia  and  Rhoda  Fleming  are  the  daugh- 
ters, fair  and  dark,  of  a  Kentish  yeoman- 
farmer.  Their  story  is  a  study  in  the  develop- 
ment of  country-girls  who  have  innocent  social 
ambitions  or  aspirations,  and  who  start  with 
sentimental  ideas  about  London  and  London- 
life.  For  them  "  the  mysterious  metropolis 
flew  with  fiery  fringes  through  dark  space,  in 
their  dreams."  *  This  romantic  prepossession 
inclines  them  for  any  move  which  promises 
to  gratify  their  social  desires  to  rise.  An 
avenue  is  soon  opened  to  them.  After  their 
mother's  death,  her  brother  Anthony 
Hackbut  appears  on  the  scene.  An  old  money 
porter  at  Boy nc's  Bank  in  London,  he  has  the 

*  ContrMt  the  vehement  description  of  London  timuluneoiuly  published 
bv  Ruakin  in  the  "  Crown  of  Wild  Olive." 

158 


Rhoda  Fleming 

reputation  at  Queen  Anne's  Farm  of  being 
rich  and  miserly — a  reputation  which  he  se- 
cretly enjoys.  Dahlia  goes  up  to  keep  house 
for  him,  and  happens,  as  she  accompanies 
him  to  the  bank,  to  meet  a  young  lawyer  of 
23  years  of  age,  Edward  Blancove,  the  son 
of  Sir  William  Blancove,  at  present  head  of 
the  bank.  His  admiration  for  her  fresh 
country  beauty  is  undisguised.  The  casual 
acquaintance  ripens  into  something  warmer. 
The  lovers  meet  secretly,  and  Dahlia's 
education  is  advanced,  at  Edward's  orders, 
by  attendance  at  various  classes. 

Presently,  feeling  neglected  by  his  niece, 
Anthony  goes  down  again  to  Queen  Anne's 
Farm,  to  bring  up  Rhoda.  Like  her  sister,  she 
has  the  provincial's  idealization  of  the  metro- 
polis. "Great  powerful  London — the  new 
universe  to  her  spirit — was  opening  its  arms  to 
her."  She  happens  to  arrive  on  the  very  night 
when  Edward  had  succeeded  in  persuading 
Dahlia  to  elope  ;  the  latter,  returning  to 
Anthony's  lodgings  for  her  mother's  Bible,  is 
surprised  to  find  Rhoda  sleeping  in  her  bed, 
and  is  pulled  up  in  time.  But  only  for  a  time. 
Rhoda  returns,  after  her  London  visit,  to  the 
159 


George  Meredith 

Farm,  and  the  next  news  is  a  letter  from 
Dahlia  who,  as  "  Mrs  Edward  Ayrton,"  has 
eloped  to  the  Continent  with  her  lover.  The 
farmer's  suspicions  of  his  daughter  are 
aroused,  though  Rhoda's  loyal  heart  still 
fights  down  its  uneasiness. 

Meantime  Rhoda  is  mildly  pursued  by 
young  Algernon  Blancove,  a  clerk  at  Boyne's 
Bank,  who  had  chanced  to  see  her  there,  as 
his  cousin  Edward  had  seen  her  sister. 
Algernon,  the  son  of  Squire  Blancove,  whose 
property  adjoins  Queen  Anne's  Farm,  is  a 
weak  fashionable  youth,  whose  philandering  is 
easily  frustrated  by  Robert  Armstrong,  the 
farmer's  assistant,  himself  in  love  with 
Rhoda.  His  real  name  is  Robert  Eccles.  The 
son  of  a  Hampshire  yeoman-farmer,  he  had 
enlisted,  after  a  wild  time  in  youth,  in  a 
cavalry  regiment  where  Algernon  had 
chanced  to  be  an  officer.  Out  of  this,  thanks 
to  a  small  legacy,  he  was  able  to  buy  himself. 
Taking  to  farming,  and  changing  his  name, 
he  had  been  able  to  curb  his  passions,  thanks 
to  Rhoda's  influence,  and  now  he  endeavours 
to  keep  her  from  Algernon,  whom  he  knows 
to  be  a  mixture  of  the  fool  and  the  rascal. 
160 


Rhoda  Fleming 

On  Dahlia's  return  to  London,  her  father 
and  Rhoda  go  up  to  see  her,  but  the  girl  is 
ashamed  to  face  them.  Her  lover  pleads  for 
the  delay  of  their  marriage,  on  account  of  his 
prospects.  He  conceals  the  liaison  from  his 
own  family,  and  she  sadly  agrees  to  avoid  her 
relatives.  The  crisis  comes  when,  in  a 
London  theatre,  the  farmer  and  Rhoda 
chance  to  recognise  Dahlia  in  the  company — 
not  of  Edward,  who  meanly  remains  in  the 
background — but  of  Algernon  who  is  em- 
ployed by  his  cousin  to  get  the  girl  out  of  the 
theatre,  unknown  to  her  relatives.  This 
accident  naturally  throws  the  Flemings  on  to 
a  false  scent.  Algernon  is  deemed  the  culprit, 
and  Dahlia  is  disowned  by  her  crushed, 
indignant,  unforgiving  father.  Rhoda  alone 
champions  her  sister,  whilst  Robert,  though 
refusing  to  share  her  faith,  undertakes  to 
tackle  the  supposed  villain  Algernon,  whom 
he  now  suspects  of  designs  upon  Rhoda  as 
well.  He  tracks  the  youth  to  a  country-house 
in  Hampshire,  where  the  house-party  includes 
both  Edward  and  Algernon.  The  former  has 
begun  to  repent  of  his  escapade  and  to  seek 
relief  from  his  connexion  with  Dahlia. 
161 


George  Meredith 

"Already  he  looked  back  upon  Dahlia  from  a 
prodigious  distance.  He  knew  that  there 
was  something  to  be  smoothed  over ;  some- 
thing written  in  the  book  of  facts  which  had 
to  be  smeared  out,  and  he  seemed  to  do  it, 
while  he  drank  the  bubbling  wine  and  heard 
himself  talk.  .  .  .  He  closed,  as  it  were,  a 
black  volume,  and  opened  a  new  and  bright 
one.  Young  men  easily  fancy  that  they  may 
do  this,  and  that,  when  the  black  volume  is 
shut,  the  tide  is  stopped.  Saying  "I  was 
a  fool,"  they  believe  they  have  put  an  end  to 
the  foolishness.  What  father  teaches  them 
that  a  human  act  once  set  in  motion  flows  on 
for  ever  to  the  great  account  ? "  Edward's 
mood  of  disgust  is  fostered  by  the  cynical 
worldliness  of  the  seniors  with  whom  he 
mixes,  and  also  by  the  luxury  of  his  present 
surroundings.  In  addition  to  this  he  is 
feeling  anew  the  fascination  of  his  lovely 
cousin  and  hostess,  Mrs.  Margaret  Lovell,  a 
blonde  young  widow,  whose  "beauty  shone 
as  from  an  illumination  of  black  flame,  under 
the  light  of  two  duels"  fought  about  her  in  India. 
It  is  at  this  moment  that  Robert's  pursuit  of 
Algernon  irritates  Edward.  Farmer  Eccles' 
162 


Rhoda  Fleming 

farm,  at  Warbeach  village,  adjoins  the 
country-house,  and  Robert,  determined  to 
find  out  what  Algernon  (the  supposed  seducer) 
has  done  with  Dahlia,  attacks  the  youth 
twice  at  the  hunt,  and  is  only  pacified  by  the 
adroitness  of  Mrs.  Lovell,  who  undertakes  to 
satisfy  the  irate  champion  of  Dahlia.  Mean- 
while, maddened  by  this  interference,  Edward, 
who  has  allowed  Algernon  to  borrow  his  name 
in  order  to  ward  off  persecution,  pays  money  to 
Nic  Sedgett,  an  old  enemy  of  Robert,  to  make 
a  murderous  attack  on  him,  whilst  Mrs. 
Lovell  fools  him  on  the  next  day  by  her  wit 
and  charms.  Robert  then  discovers  that  he 
has  mistaken  Algernon  for  Edward,  and 
scorning  to  touch  Nic  Sedgett,*  threatens  and 
challenges  the  young  lawyer.  The  latter  now 
finds  himself  in  a  coil  of  awkward  conse- 
quences. But  he  is  too  vain  to  admit  his 


*  "  Leave  real  rascals  to  the  Lord  above,"  he  tells  his  friend  and 
landlady.  Mrs.  Boulby.  "  He '»  safe  to  punish  them.  They  Ve  stepped 
outside  the  chances.  That  '*  my  idea.  I  wouldn't  go  out  of  my  way  to 
kick  them— not  I !  It 's  the  half-and-half  villains  we  *ve  got  to  dispose  of. 
They  're  the  mischief."  Nic  Sedtiett  is  Meredith's  nearest  approach  to  a 
rillain.  Yet  even  he  is  not  a  villain  in  the  true  sense  of  the  term.  The 
hero  and  villain  of  the  tale  are,  as  Meredith  points  out,  combined  in 
Edward.  Selfish  and  cunning,  Sedgett  has  no  deep-laid  plot  of  his  own. 
The  initiative  does  not  rest  with  him.  He  is  rather  the  tool  of  others, 
acting  to  accordance  with  hi*  low  nature  upon  their  suggestion,  and 
out  their  plan*. 

163 


George  Meredith 

cowardice  and  act  justly  towards  his  victim, 
and  so  has  recourse  to  subterfuges.  He  pre- 
tends to  suppose  that  Dahlia,  whose  only  re- 
proach to  him  was  her  suffering,  participated 
in  the  scheme  to  worry  him ;  snatching  at  this 
miserable  pretext  for  blaming  her,  he  dis- 
appears to  Paris,  leaving  the  matter  in  the 
hands  of  Mrs.  Lovell.  Her  plan  is  to  make 
provision  (including  a  husband)  for  Dahlia, 
as  the  easiest  way  of  ending  the  entanglement. 
Consequently  she  still  endeavours  to  keep 
Robert  in  ignorance  of  Dahlia's  whereabouts, 
but  is  brought  to  terms  by  the  appearance  on 
the  scene  of  Major  Percy  Waring,  a  friend  and 
former  fellow  officer  of  Robert,  whose  previous 
acquaintance  with  the  fair  widow  enables 
him  to  force  her  hand.  By  this  time,  however, 
Dahlia  is  invisible.  Deserted  by  her  lover, 
she  has  had  brain-fever,  and  has  fallen  in 
accidentally  with  Nic  Sedgett,  who  has  shown 
some  kindness  to  her.  He  had  undertaken, 
for  a  large  sum  of  money,  to  marry  the  girl 
and  then  emigrate.  The  pivot  of  the  whole 
story  lies  in  Dahlia's  reasons  for  agreeing  to 
this  extraordinary  step,  and  in  the  ways, 
partly  deliberate,  partly  accidental,  by  which 

164 


Rhoda  Fleming 

it  is  executed.  Dahlia's  illness  has  sapped 
her  spirit.  Though  still  in  love  with  Edward, 
she  brings  herself  to  marry  Sedgett  simply 
for  the  sake  of  protection.  Marriage,  she  felt, 
would  secure  her  good  name,  wipe  the  spot 
of  shame  from  her  character,  and  enable  her 
to  face  her  father  and  sister  again.  Hence 
she  could  rise,  trembling  and  bewildered,  to 
sacrifice  her  happiness  and  love,  for  the  sake 
of  being  made  an  "honest  woman"  in  her 
relatives'  eyes.  In  this  resolve  she  is  stoutly 
abetted,  even  urged,  by  Rhoda,  who  overbears 
any  hesitation  on  the  part  of  her  shrinking 
sister.  Even  Robert  favours  the  step  ;  for, 
ignorant  who  the  proposed  husband  is,  he 
feels  Dahlia's  marriage  is  the  one  means  of 
restoring  her  to  her  family  and  thus  securing 
her  own  happiness.  The  catastrophe  is 
furthered,  also,  by  the  foolish  blundering  of 
Algernon,  who  does  not  forward  Dahlia's 
pathetic  letters  of  appeal  to  Edward,  and 
spends  on  himself  the  money  sent  by  his 
cousin  to  buy  off  Sedgett.  For  meanwhile 
Edward  has  been  coming  to  his  right  mind. 
His  flight  to  Paris,  "leaving  all  the  brutality 
to  be  done  for  him  behind  his  back,"  had  put 
165 


George  Meredith 

a  chasm  between  him  and  Mrs.  Lovell.  The 
latter,  now  under  the  better  guidance  of 
Major  Waring,  visits  Dahlia  and  honestly 
seeks  to  provide  for  her  future  by  means  of 
this  marriage.  At  the  same  time  she  throws 
over  Edward,  who,  still  forced  to  believe 
that  Dahlia  is  agreeable  to  the  marriage,  and 
perhaps*  ignorant  as  yet  that  the  husband 
is  Sedgett,  is  roused  from  his  cynicism 
and  inaction  by  receiving  at  last  poor  Dahlia's 
letters.  He  hurries  home  to  stop  the  marriage 
and  avow  his  connexion  with  Dahlia.  But  the 
repentance  is  too  late.  Partly  owing  to  Al- 
gernon's folly  in  refusing  to  carry  out  his 
telegraphed  directions,  partly  as  a  result  of 
Dahlia's  passive  weakness,  but  chiefly  owing 
to  Rhoda's  not  unnatural  suspicion  of  her  sis- 
ter's seducer  and  her  resolute  determination 
to  make  the  frail  girl  reach  the  altar,  Edward's 
frantic  efforts  to  get  an  interview  with  his  mis- 
tress (and  so  avert  the  marriage)  are  in  vain, 
though  seconded  at  the  end  by  Robert,  who 

*  "It  may  not,  perhaps,  be  said  that  be  had  distinctly  known 
Sedgett  to  be  the  man.  He  had  certainly  suspected  the  possibility  of  hia 
being  the  nun.  It  ia  ont  of  the  power  of  moat  wilful  and  selfish  nature* 
to  imagine,  §o  a*  to  see  accurately,  the  deedi  they  prompt  or  permit 
to  be  done.  They  do  not  comprehend  them  until  theae  black  realities 
(trad  op  before  their  eyes."  Ch.  xzzvii  (end). 

166 


Rhoda  Fleming 

begins  dimly  to  suspect  that  something  is 
wrong.  After  the  ceremony  Sedgett  brutally 
flings  Dahlia  off.  She  returns,  however,  in 
peace  to  the  farm  and  her  father.  But  a  delayed 
letter  from  Edward  reveals  to  her  the  terrible 
mistake  she  has  just  committed,  and  her  fren- 
zied anguish  stirs  compunction  in  poor  Rhoda's 
heart  for  the  sorrow  which  she  has  caused 
by  doing  what  she  had  believed  was  for  the 
best.  Robert  and  she  now  undertake  the 
defence  of  Dahlia  from  Sedgett.  When  the 
latter  appears  to  claim  his  wife  with  coarse 
brutality,  he  is  supported  by  the  farmer  who 
is  unable  to  comprehend  why  a  husband's 
rights  should  not  be  upheld.  Dahlia,  in  her 
extremity,  attempts  to  poison  herself.  But,  in 
the  nick  of  time,  it  is  discovered  that  the 
marriage  is  invalid.  Sedgett,  it  turns  out, 
had  been  playing  a  double  game.  Already 
married,  he  had  agreed  to  marry  Dahlia 
simply  for  the  sum  of  money  offered  by  the 
Blancoves.  Dahlia  consequently  is  free. 
She  recovers  from  her  poison,  but  her  life 
is  shattered.  The  rose  of  womanhood  has 
become  a  frail  bent  lily,  and  Edward's 
penitence  fails  to  requicken  her  affections. 
167 


George  Meredith 

"She  would  marry  him,"  Mrs.  Lovell 
explains,  "if  she  could  bring  herself  to  it; — 
the  truth  is,  he  killed  her  pride.  Her  taste 
for  life  is  gone."  Rhoda  marries  Robert,  and 
Mrs.  Lovell,  ruined  by  her  mania  for  betting, 
deserts  Major  Waring  for  the  rich  Sir  William 
Blancove.  Thus  Edward  missed  both  the 
women  of  his  desire,  the  society  dame  as  well 
as  the  country-girl.  Through  his  cowardice 
he  had  forfeited  his  fair  cousin's  esteem, 
whilst  the  victory  over  his  pride  came  too 
late  to  preserve  for  him  the  love  of  the  rustic 
beauty  with  whom  he  had  trifled. 

The  convivial  scene,  without  which  no 
novel  of  Meredith  would  be  quite  complete, 
occurs  in  chapter  xviii.  One  of  his  keenest 
analyses  of  the  French  character  is  put  into 
chapter  xxii,  and  chapter  xxvii  opens  with  a 
handful  of  sentences  which  are  quite  in  the 
vein  of  Carlyle.  The  forty-third  chapter  con- 
tains a  well-known  example  of  Meredithian 
dialogue,  fortunately  with  a  key  supplied  in 
brackets,  but  the  novel  as  a  whole  is  remark- 
ably free  from  Meredithese ;  it  is  rare  to  meet 
with  such  lapses  as  "vulnerability"  in  the 
mouth  of  a  yeoman  (chapter  xxiv). 
168 


Rhoda  Fleming 

The  two  weak  points  in  the  construction  of 
the  story  are  Dahlia's  consent  to  marry  Sed- 
gett  and  the  r&le  of  Mrs.  Lovell.  The  latter, 
an  Anglo-Indian  "Venus  Annodomini "  after 
Mr.  Kipling's  heart,  has  a  part  too  important 
for  her  character.  "A  far-fetched  motive, 
an  ingenious  evasion  of  the  issue,  a  witty  in- 
stead of  a  passionate  turn,  offend  us  like  an 
insincerity,"  says  Stevenson.  "  All  should  be 
plain,  all  straightforward  to  the  end.  Hence 
it  is  that,  in  '  Rhoda  Fleming,'  Mrs.  Lovell 
raises  such  resentment  in  the  reader ;  her 
motives  are  too  flimsy,  her  ways  are  too  equiv- 
ocal, for  the  weight  and  strength  of  her  sur- 
roundings." Much  more  satisfactory  is  the 
treatment  of  pride  in  the  various  characters, 
particularly  in  Anthony  Hackbut  and  in  Ed- 
ward. The  former  has  the  vanity  of  riches, 
or  rather  of  the  reputation  for  riches ;  money 
acts  on  his  imagination  and  fires  his  brain 
(compare  chapter  xxv) ;  he  risks  his  good 
character  in  order  to  live  up  to  the  false  char- 
acter which  he  has  taught  his  poorer  relatives 
to  attribute  to  him  (compare  chapter  xl). 
Edward's  pride  is  much  more  tragic  and 
subtle.  His  pride  of  position  keeps  him  from 
169 


George  Meredith 

avowing  his  relationship  with  Dahlia;  later 
on,  his  false  pride  leads  him  to  subterfuges 
which  force  him  into  cowardice  and  selfish- 
ness ;  and  finally,  when  this  meaner  pride  is 
killed  by  the  crisis,  it  is  too  late. 


170 


VITTORIA 


Vittoria 

HIS  sequel  to  "Sandra  Belloni"  appeared 
-*•  in  the  "Fortnightly  Review"  for  1866, 
the  year*  when  Meredith  was  acting  as  war- 
correspondent  for  the  "Morning  Post"  in 
Italy  and  Austria.  It  narrates  the  experiences 
of  Emilia  in  Italy  during  1848-1849.  There  the 
revolution  broke  out  on  January  2nd,  1848,  at 
Milan,  and  then  at  Venice ;  the  temporary 
success  of  the  insurgents  ended  on  the  23rd  of 
March,  1849,  at  the  battle  of  Novara,  which 
led  to  the  abdication  of  Charles  Albert,  and 
the  historical  scene  of  action  in  "  Vittoria n 
practically  lies  between  these  two  dates,  t  The 
novel  contains  a  series  of  vivid  military 


*  Ibsen  settled  in  Rome  in  the  autumn  of  1866.  But  how  differently 
he  and  Meredith  viewed  Italy! 

t  "Vittoria"  is  Meredith's  contribution  to  the  volume  of  generous 
sympathy  with  the  Italian  struggle  for  freedom,  which  threw  np  such 
remarkable  waves  in  the  English  poetry  and  prose  of  last  century.  He 
does  not  write  as  a  partisan,  but  his  account  of  Italy's  plight  answers  to 
that  of  Fogmzzaro  in  "Piccolo  Mondo  antico." 

173 


George  Meredith 

scenes,  plots,  and  intrigues,  but  these  have 
spoiled  the  symmetry  of  the  story.  The 
thread  of  Vittoria's  personality,  which  con- 
stitutes the  real  unity  of  its  chapters,  disappears 
altogether,  now  and  then ;  episodes  are  heaped 
on  episodes  ;  Austrians,  Italians,  and  English 
folk  crowd  the  pages  with  more  or  less 
irrelevance  ;  and,  although  Meredith  pleads 
that  "  these  half-comic  little  people  have  their 
place  in  the  history  of  higher  natures  and 
darker  destinies,"  his  method  assigns  some  of 
them  more  than  their  due  stroke  in  the  plot. 
This  applies  particularly  to  the  English  char- 
acters retained  from  "Sandra  Belloni."  The 
foreigners  are  more  vital,  but  there  are  too 
many  of  them,  and  their  under-plots  and 
counter-plots  form  a  whirling  kaleidoscope,  in 
which  it  is  often  difficult  to  keep  the  central 
figures  in  sight. 

The  novel  follows  this  scheme  of  events  : — 

Emilia,  on  leaving  England,  had  changed 

her  name  to  Vittoria  Campa  ("her  own  name 

being  an  attraction  to  the  blow-flies  in  her  own 

country").     In  terms  of  her  agreement  with 

Pericles,  she  had  studied  for  three  years  at  the 

Milan  Gonservatorio,  and  abstained  from  any 

174 


Vittoria 

political  action.  But  while  her  voice  had 
developed,  her  passion  for  Italy  had  also 
grown  deeper  with  the  years,  and  it  is  arranged 
that  she  is  to  make  her  debut  as  a  prima  donna 
at  La  Scala,  in  an  opera  written  for  the  purpose 
by  one  of  the  patriots,  which,  at  one  point,  is 
to  give  the  signal  for  the  Milanese  rising 
against  the  Austrians. 

The  novel  opens  on  the  eve  of  this  debut. 
Mazzini,  who  is  at  the  head  of  the  plot,  trusts 
and  admires  Vittoria,  but  several  of  the  con- 
spirators have  only  too  good  reason  to  suspect 
women,  and  especially  singers.  They  dislike 
the  idea  of  Vittoria's  co-operation,  and 
unluckily  she  gives  them  some  apparent  cause 
to  doubt  her,  by  entering  into  correspondence 
with  her  old  friends  Adela  Pole  (now  Mrs 
Sedley),  and  Wilfrid  Pole  (now  Lieutenant 
Pierson,  serving  with  his  uncle  in  the  Austrian 
army).  Her  letters  are  innocent  but  indiscreet. 
They  force  Barto  Rizzo,  the  agent  of  Count 
Medole,  an  aristocratic  leader  of  the  conspir- 
acy, to  conclude  that  Vittoria  must  be  either 
an  idiot  or  a  traitor ;  in  either  case  she  is  unfit 
to  be  trusted  with  so  important  a  part  in  the 
plot.  Barto  is  a  study  in  the  headstrong, 
175 


George  Meredith 

suspicious  conspirator,  whose  error  lies  in  his 
conceit  and  in  his  doubts  of  women.  Imagin- 
ing that  he  knows  what  should  be  done,  better 
even  than  Mazzini,  he  determines,  in  the 
temporary  absence  of  the  chief,  to  have  the 
rising  postponed.  Vittoria  is  equally  deter- 
mined to  go  on  with  her  opera,  however ;  she 
hotly  resents  the  suspicions  of  her  loyalty. 
Pericles  attempts  to  kidnap  her  with  the  aid 
of  Captain  Weisspriess,  an  Austrian  officer ; 
he  hopes  to  tame  her  into  a  state  where  she 
will  be  kindled  by  the  passion  of  love,  not  of 
politics,  and,  like  Carlo  Ammiani,  who  is  in 
love  with  her,  he  foresees  the  risk  of  letting 
her  sing,  as  had  been  arranged,  at  La  Scala  on 
the  appointed  evening.  But,  by  the  cleverness 
of  Beppo,  one  of  Vittoria's  bodyguard,  the  plot 
fails  ;  her  rival,  Irma  di  Karski,  is  kidnapped 
in  her  stead,  and  Vittoria  does  appear,  to 
win  an  instant  success  by  her  magnificent 
singing,  in  the  patriotic  opera.  "The  house 
rose,  Italians  and  Germans  together.  Genius, 
music,  and  enthusiasm  break  the  line  of 
nationalities."  Vittoria  closes  the  opera  by 
singing  the  imprinted  lyric  which  had  been 
agreed  upon  as  the  signal  for  the  rising  of 
176 


Vittoria 

Young  Italy,  beginning  : — 

"  I  cannot  count  the  years, 

That  you  will  drink,  like  me, 
The  cup  of  blood  and  tears, 
Ere  she  to  you  appears  : — 

Italia,  Italia,  shall  be  free." 
This  defiance  of  the  Austrians  throws  the 
audience  into  confusion.  Pericles  is  in  terror 
lest  his  precious  singer  should  be  injured  by 
their  knavish  tricks  and  politics,  but  Vittoria 
is  smuggled  into  safety  by  her  well-wishers, 
and  eventually  ensconced,  by  the  intervention 
of  Weisspriess,  at  the  Castle  of  Sonnenberg, 
near  Meran.  Meantime,  Milan  remains  as 
before ;  no  rising  takes  place ;  but  Carlo 
Ammiani,  the  young  Milanese  conspirator 
who  has  aided  his  beloved  to  escape  after  the 
opera,  is  thrown  into  prison.  Wilfrid  joins 
the  Lenkensteins*  at  Meran ;  he  is  engaged  to 
Countess  Lena,  as  he  had  been  to  Lady 
Charlotte  in  England,  but  he  has  fallen  into 
disgrace  with  the  Austrian  authorities  by 
helping  Vittoria  to  escape  from  the  theatre. 

•  *  Anna  and  Lena  are  described  as  the  "German  beauties  of  Milan, 
lively  little  women,  and  sweet."  They  become  bitter  enemies  of  Vittoria. 
particularly  because  she  had  helped  Angelo  Guidascarpi  to  escape,  who 
had  killed  their  brother  Paul  and  wounded  Weisspriess.  Anna's  lover. 

177 


George  Meredith 

Wilfrid's  sentimentalism  is  not  yet  cured,  and 
the  least  encouragement  would  attach  him 
once  more  to  Vittoria.  She  begins  to  feel  the 
Austrian  atmosphere  of  the  Castle  uncongenial 
and  hostile,  and  uses  Wilfrid  to  further  some 
of  her  own  plans.  The  party  breaks  up; 
Lena  throws  over  Wilfrid  ;  and  Vittoria  goes 
back  to  resume  her  professional  career  in 
Turin. 

The  autumn  episodes  of  the  story  end  here. 
With  the  twenty-ninth  chapter  Meredith 
begins  the  winter  and  spring  episodes  of  the 
revolt  and  war  in  "the  year  of  flames  for 
continental  Europe."  Carlo,  who  escapes 
from  prison,  falls  under  the  spell  of  the 
Countess  Violetta  d'Isorella,  an  aristocratic 
beauty  of  the  royalist  party,  who,  before  her 
marriage,  had  stirred  his  boyish  passions. 
Her  characteristics  are  "a  leaning  towards 
evil,  a  light  sense  of  shame,  a  desire  for  money, 
and  in  her  heart  a  contempt  for  the  principles 
she  did  not  possess,  but  which,  apart  from  the 
intervention  of  other  influences,  could  oc- 
casionally sway  her  actions."  She  instils  a 
doubt  of  Vittoria  into  his  impressionable 
heart,  and  he,  on  starting  for  Brescia,  sends  a 
178 


Vittoria 

message  to  his  mother  that  Vittoria  must  stay 
beside  her  at  Milan.  Violetta  delivers  the 
message  to  Vittoria  in  a  careless  way. 
Vittoria  thinks  it  wiser  to  remain  at  Turin, 
where  she  is  not  only  safe  but  able  to  make 
money  on  the  stage  for  the  patriotic  cause. 
Carlo  resents  this  disobedience.  He  cannot 
believe  in  Charles  Albert,*  "the  wobbling 
king,"  as  Vittoria  does,t  and,  in  a  fit  of  ardent 
republicanism,  he  demands  peremptorily  that 
she  shall  leave  Turin  and  break  with  her  mon- 
archical delusion.  Thus  the  schism  between 
monarchists  and  republicans  which  hurt  the 
patriotic  cause  hurts  the  lovers  also.  Instead 
of  obeying  him,  or  of  going  to  sing  in  London, 
as  Pericles  besought  her,  she  considers  it 
better  to  follow  the  king's  army  and  help  as 
far  as  she  can  in  the  liberation  of  Italy. 
Vittoria's  mind  is  too  independent  to  be 
swayed  by  Carlo  at  a  distance.  The  latter 


*  Carlo  shared  the  Mazzinist  suspicions  of  Charles  Albert,  which, 
together  with  the  king's  military  irresolution,  helped  to  wreck  the  revolution. 

t  Compare  Mrs  Browning's  tribute  in  "Casa  Guidi  Windows"  (the 
second  part).  Meredith  analyses  Vittoria's  view  of  the  king  into  a  sympa- 
thetic pity  for  one  whom  she  thought  misjudged.  She  prided  herself  on 
thinking  "  that  she  divined  the  king's  character  by  mystical  intuition." 
Slight  touches  of  self-importance  are  also  noted  in  chapters  xxxi  and  xxxii. 

179 


George  Meredith 

fails  to  realise  her  strength  of  character,  * 
however,  and  he  is  wounded,  alike  in  his 
personal  vanity  and  in  his  republican  sym- 
pathies, by  her  repeated  refusal  to  quit  the 
king. 

Meantime,  Pericles  manages,  with  the  aid  of 
the  Austrians,  to  carry  off  his  pearl  of  singers  ; 
Carlo  rescues  her,  however,  and  she  obeys 
his  injunction  to  join  his  mother  at  Brescia. 
But  instead  of  following  the  Countess  to  Lago 
Maggiore,  when  the  rebellion  was  collapsing 
under  Radetzsky's  vigorous  attack,  Vittoria 
stays  on  in  Milan  to  nurse  Merthyr  Powys. 
She  is  sincerely  longing  for  her  marriage  with 
Carlo,  t  yet  the  sight  of  Powys  makes  her  feel 
some  compunction  at  the  thought  of  leaving 
him  to  recover  from  his  wounds,  only  to  find 
her  married.  Carlo,  in  her  absence,  falls 
once  more  under  Violetta's  spell;  she  advises 


*  "It  is  the  curse  of  man's  education  in  Italy.  He  can  see  that  she 
has  wits  and  courage.  He  will  not  consent  to  make  use  of  them.  She, 
who  has  both  heart  and  judgment — she  is  merely  a  little  boat  tied  to  a  big 
ship."  See  "Sandra  Belloni  "  (chap  liO. 

t  Meredith  (in  ch.  xxxv)  admits  her  momentary  lapse  from  devotion 
to  either  music  or  patriotism.  "She  wept  with  longing  for  love  and 
dependence.  She  was  sick  of  personal  freedom.  The  blessedness  of 
marriage,  of  peace  and  dependence,  came  on  her  imagination  like  a  soft 
breeze  from  a  hidden  garden,  like  sleep." 

180 


Vittoria 

him  to  postpone  his  marriage  in  the  interests 
of  the  cause,  and  when  Vittoria  rejoins  his 
mother  and  himself  at  Lago  Maggiore,  it  is  to 
find  the  chill  of  silent  blame  resting  on  herself 
for  the  delay  in  arriving.  She  finds  a  passion- 
less courtesy  in  Carlo,  who  is  more  concerned 
now  for  the  cause  in  Lombardy  than  for 
his  marriage.  Besides,  his  vanity  has  been 
inflamed  by  Violetta  ;  Vittoria  has  wounded 
his  pride  by  her  delay  and  disobedience  ;  and 
finally  he  is  told  that  Barto  Rizzo's  mad 
suspicions  would  handicap  his  influence  if 
Vittoria  were  to  take  his  name  at  the  present 
crisis.  Eventually,  however,  Carlo's  silly 
pique  is  overcome,  and  the  marriage  takes 
place.  Merthyr  Powys  chivalrously  exerts 
his  influence  to  bring  it  about,  while  Carlo 
realises  that  Vittoria  will  need  his  name  to 
protect  her  against  Rizzo's  fanatical  ven- 
geance Their  marriage  serves  to  stir  up  the 
enemies  of  Vittoria  in  Milan,  including  not 
only  the  conspirators  who  blame  her  for 
double-dealing,  but  also  the  women  who  envy 
her  beauty  and  voice.  Vittoria  is  stabbed  by 
Rizzo's  wife,  but  not  fatally.  Her  suffering 
makes  Carlo  remorseful  for  his  past  treat- 
181 


George  Meredith 

ment  of  her,  before  and  after  marriage,  but  he 
still  ignores  her  wisdom  and  advice  in  his 
conceit  of  masculine  superiority.  "Her 
husband!"  Pericles  thunders,  "oh!  she  must 
marry  a  young  man,  little  donkey  that  she  is ! 
And  he  plays  false  to  her.  Good  ;  I  do  not 
object.  But  imagine  in  your  own  mind, — 
instead  of  passion,  of  rage,  of  tempest,  she  is 
frozen  wiz  a  repose."  Instead  of  pushing  on 
to  join  Mazzini  at  Rome,  as  Vittoria  and  the 
rest  urge,  Carlo  plots  to  make  a  fresh  fight  for 
Lombardy,  where  his  plans  have  been  already 
betrayed  to  the  authorities  by  the  heartless 
Violetta.  His  obstinate  pride*  refuses  to 
listen  to  any  remonstrances.  Vittoria  bewails 
her  partial  responsibility  for  his  conduct,  t 
"I  could  have  turned  my  husband  from  this 
dark  path ;  I  preferred  to  dream  and  sing. 
I  would  not  see — it  was  my  pride  that  would 
not  see  his  error.  My  cowardice  would  not 
wound  him  with  a  single  suggestion."  In  any 

*  Policy  took  the  others  to  Rome  ;  Carlo  said  grandly  that  he  would 
not  leave  beaten  Lombardy.  and  admired  himself,  as  he  was  admired  by 
other*,  for  thii  devotion.  By  the  time  that  he  saw  through  Violetta'g 
treachery  and  hia  own  folly,  he  had  pledged  himself  to  hia  follower*  too 
far  to  retreat  Read  the  penetrating  paragraph  at  the  opening  of  ch.  zlv. 

t  The  parallel  between  her  and  Nataly  Radnor  ii  very  close  at  thii 
point. 

182 


Vittoria 

case,  whether  Carlo  would  have  condescended 
to  listen  to  her  or  not,  it  is  now  too  late  to  pull 
him  up.  He  heads  the  forlorn  enterprise, 
which  is  fore-doomed  to  failure.  The  battle 
of  Novara  is  fought,  Brescia  is  bombarded, 
and  Carlo  perishes  with  his  party  in  their 
flight.  Vittoria's  child  is  born  safely,  and 
called  Carlo  Merthyr  Ammiani.  The  reader 
is  left  in  the  same  tantalising  uncertainty  as  at 
the  close  of  "  Lord  Ormont  and  his  Aminta." 
Did  Vittoria  ever  change  her  last  name  to 
Powys?  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  she  did. 

"  Like  the  swinging  May-cloud  that  pelts 

the  flowers  with  hailstones 
Off  a  sunny  border,  she  was  made  to 

bruise  and  bless." 

She  had  bruised  Powys  often  enough.  He 
deserved  at  least  that  she  should  bless  him 
even  with  a  tardy  gleam  of  sunshine. 

Vittoria  herself  is  the  great  figure  in  the 
story.  The  superb  creature  dominates  even 
Pericles ;  she  sways  Mazzini  to  belief  in  her ; 
she  catches  the  heart  of  the  conspirators ;  she 
impresses,  even  while  she  offends,  the  Italian 
aristocrats  with  an  inexplicable  combination 
of  charm  and  resolution.  Meredith  praises 
183 


George  Meredith 

her  singing  enthusiastically.  "Her  voice 
belonged  to  the  order  of  the  simply  great 
voices,  and  was  a  royal  voice  among  them. 
The  great  voice  rarely  astonishes  our  ears. 
It  illumines  our  souls."  She  puts  her  gift  at 
the  service  of  the  country,  but  her  supreme 
contribution  to  the  struggle  is  the  passionate 
and  tenacious  idealism  (see  the  passages  in 
chapters  xv  and  xvi)  of  her  faith  in  Italy. 
This  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  she  and  Carlo 
disappoint  one  another  ;  he  is  the  type  of  the 
so-called  practical  conspirator,  who  is  apt  to 
lose,  in  intrigues  and  compromises,  the  larger 
vision  to  which  Vittoria,  like  Mazzini,  clung. 
At  the  same  time  the  total  impression  left 
by  Vittoria,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  somewhat 
disappointing.  She  is  a  magnificent  personal- 
ity but  she  achieves  little  or  nothing ;  after 
the  great  operatic  scene,  her  influence  is 
scattered  and  fitful.  She  begins  by  behaving 
with  an  indiscretion,  almost  amounting  to 
folly,  in  communicating  with  her  old  English 
friends  among  the  Austrians.  Then  she 
repeats  her  English  mistake  by  accepting  the 
love  of  Carlo ;  he  is  at  least  a  nobler  char- 
acter than  Wilfrid,  but  he  is  no  proper  mate 
184 


Vittoria 

for  her,  and  it  is  only  the  glamour  of  his  heady 
patriotism  which  blinds  her  to  this  ;  her  true 
mate,  Merthyr  Powys,  is  still  passed  over. 
The  strain  of  the  insurrection  further  weakens 
her  into  a  mood  of  yearning  for  married  bliss 
at  one  point,  and  into  an  almost  flighty  passion 
for  the  king  at  another.  Thus,  while  it  has 
become  conventional  to  rank  Vittoria  as 
pHt.ja  inter  Pares  among  the  Meredithian 
heroines,  a  close  analysis  of  the  tale  seems  to 
show  that,  although  her  setting  is  heroic  and 
her  qualities  those  of  a  great  soul,  the  author 
has  not  succeeded  in  conveying  the  impression 
of  unity,  intensity,  and  passionate  absorption 
which  we  are  entitled  to  expect  from  his 
delineation  of  the  peerless  singer  into  which 
the  raw  girl,  Emilia,  has  developed. 

But  if  Vittoria  becomes  in  one  sense  less 
interesting  than  Emilia,  Pericles  waxes  in 
force  and  favour.  One's  heart  warms  to  this 
Greek  millionaire.  His  divine  passion  for 
music  has  its  humorous  side,  but  there  is 
something  epic  in  his  devotion  to  the  art ;  it 
is  deeper  than  that  of  Vittoria  herself. 
Vittoria  is  patriot,  singer,  and  woman  by 
turns.  Pericles  lives  for  music,  or  rather  for 
185 


George  Meredith 

the  spiritual  endowment  of  Vittoria's  voice. 
He  follows  her  anxiously  even  inside  the 
fighting  line.  He  threatens  her,  cajoles  her, 
appeals  to  her,  spends  money  for  her,  with 
the  whole-hearted  passion  of  the  artistic 
nature  which  counts  no  sacrifice  too  great  for 
its  art.  "  I  am  possessed  wiz  passion  for  her 
voice.  So  it  will  be  till  I  go  to  ashes.  It  is  to 
me  ze  one  zsing  divine  in  a  pig,  a  porpoise 
world."  "Ser,  if  I  wake  not  very  late  on 
Judgment-Day,  I  shall  zen  hear — but  why 
should  I  talk  poetry  to  you  to  make  you  laugh? 
I  have  a  divin'  passion  for  zat  woman.  Do  I 
not  give  her  to  a  husband,  and  say,  Be  happy ! 
onnly  sing  !  Be  kissed  !  Be  hugged  !  onnly 
give  Pericles  your  voice."  "It  is  not  onnly 
voice  he  craves,  but  a  soul,  and  Sandra,  your 
countess,  she  has  a  soul."  Meredith  never 
again  created  the  musical  enthusiast  with  such 
power.  The  music-lovers  in  "One  of  Our 
Conquerors"  are  creeping  things  compared 
to  this  superb,  vulgar,  unselfish  merchant, 
who  is  ready  to  spend  his  wealth  for  music 
and  is  wrathful  because  others  will  not  see 
the  duty  of  putting  it  before  patriotism  and 
love. 


Vittoria 

The  course  of  the  novel*  is  uninterrupted 
by  the  intrusion  of  the  Philosopher's  com- 
ments upon  pride  and  sentimentalism  which 
retard  the  progress  of  its  lineal  predecessor. 
In  his  humorous  apology  for  the  psycho- 
logical digressions  in  "Sandra  Belloni," 
Meredith  announces  that  when  Emilia  is  in 
Italy,  the  Philosopher  proposes  to  keep 
entirely  in  the  background,  since  in  Italy 
"  there  is  a  field  of  action,  of  battles  and  con- 
spiracies, nerve  and  muscle,  where  life  fights 
for  plain  issues,  and  he  can  but  sum  results." 
We  shall  be  quit  of  the  Philosopher,  my  friends 
"in  the  day  when  Italy  reddens  the  sky  with 
the  banners  of  a  land  revived."  This  pi  ^mise 
is  kept.  The  defects  of  technique  in  "Vittoria" 
are  not  due  to  the  love  of  abstract  digressions, 
but  to  the  fact  that  Meredith  had  several 
stories,  instead  of  one,  to  tell,  and  that  the 
exigencies  of  the  historical  background  forced 
him  to  tell  them  all  together,  with  the  result 
that  the  masses  of  detail  overlap,  and  a  certain 
cumbrousness  ensues.  The  supreme  moments 

*  James  Thomson  applied  to  Meredith  Coleridge's  saying  about  Shakes- 
peare, that  "the  intellectual  power  and  the  creative  energy  wrestle  as  in  « 
war-embrace."  In  "Vittoria,"  which  is  crowded  with  phases  of  this 
combat,  the  creative  energy  is  hardly  ever  overpowered  in  episode*. 

187 


George  Meredith 

or  episodes  are  in  the  Mazzini-scenes  at  the 
beginning  ("  Vittoria  "  is  one  of  the  few 
novels  in  Meredith's  list  which  open  well) ; 
in  the  opera-chapters  (ch.  xviii — xxii) ;  in  ch. 
xxvi  (the  duel  in  the  pass) ;  and  in  the  Rinaldo 
Guidascarpi  passages.  These  do  not  win  for 
"Vittoria"  the  position  of  primacy  which  is 
claimed  among  George  Eliot's  novels  for 
' '  Romola  " — written  three  years  before.  They 
do  not  even  place  "Vittoria"  on  a  level  with 
the  older  writer's  Italian  romance  in  point  of 
symmetry  and  structure.  But  they  introduce 
peasants,  citizens,  and  soldiers  who  are  not 
simply  correct  but  vital ;  every  figure  in 
"  Vittoria  "  throbs  with  reality,  and  the  novel 
never  leaves  the  impression  of  a  manu- 
factured article  which  some  of  "  Romola"  's 
more  finished  pages  produce. 

Like  Garlyle's  "  French  Revolution,"  the 
story  requires  to  be  read  alongside  of  a  plain 
historical  summary  of  the  period  across  which 
it  throws  quick  flashes  of  light.  Such  a  sum- 
mary may  be  found  by  the  English  reader 
in  the  Countess  Martinengo  Gesaresco's 
"Liberation  of  Italy,"  in  Mr.  Bolton  King's 
succinct  "History  of  Italian  Unity,"  or  in 
188 


Vittoria 

Mr.  G.  M.  Trevelyan's  fine  historical  study, 
"  Garibaldi's  Defence  of  the  Roman  Repub- 
lic." Mr.  Trevelyan  incidentally  points  out 
that  Laura  Piaveni  reproduces  part  of  the 
character  of  the  Princess  Belgiojoso,  a  high- 
minded  and  devoted  aristocratic  adherent  of 
the  revolution,  while  Luciano  Romara  is  a 
study  of  L.  Manara,  the  Milanese  aristocrat 
who  commanded  the  Lombard  Bersaglieri 
(see  the  allusion  in  ch.  xii  of  "  The  Egoist "). 
The  opening  chapter  of  Garlyle's  "Latter-day 
Pamphlets  "  should  also  be  read,  in  order  to 
catch  the  revolutionary  throb  of  the  period. 

The  Alpine  scene  at  the  opening  is  one  of 
the  mountain-pictures  which  Meredith  fre- 
quently painted  (see  below,  under  "The 
Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond  ")•  Mazzini 
himself,  after  crossing  by  the  St.  Gothard  pass 
to  Milan  in  1848,  wrote:  "no  one  knows 
what  poetry  is,  who  has  not  found  himself 
there,  at  the  highest  point  of  the  route,  on  the 
plateau,  surrounded  by  the  peaks  of  the  Alps 
in  the  everlasting  silence  which  speaks  of 
God.  There  is  no  atheism  possible  in  the 
Alps." 


189 


THE  ADVENTURES 
OF  HARRY  RICHMOND 


The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond 

THIS  long  novel,  published  in  book  form 
in  1871,  is,  like  "The  Ordeal  of  Richard 
Feverel,"  a  study  in  the  relations  of  father  and 
son,*  but  it  is  written  in  the  first  person,  and 
Harry  plays  a  much  less  active  r6le  than 
Richard.  When  the  story  begins,  Harry  is 
carried  off  in  his  father's  arms,  and  the  hero, 
as  boy  or  youth,  has  little  initiative ;  he  is 
always  being  carried  on  some  tide,  or  swayed, 
to  his  good  or  undoing,  by  the  influence  of 
two  or  three  stronger  natures,  particularly 
that  of  his  father.  Roy  Richmond  is  the  real 
hero  of  the  story.  Unlike  Sir  Austin,  he 
wins  the  confidence  of  his  boy,  but  his  errors 
fail  to  wreck  his  son's  happiness.  Roy  is  a 
wonderful  father.  A  preposterous  adven- 
turer, if  you  like,  but  not  a  scamp  or  scoundrel 

*  In  both  cases  the  father  wrongs  the  son  not  by  harshness  but  by 
misguided  affection.  Sir  Austin's  pride  is  in  the  system  he  has  devised, 
Roy  Richmond's  in  the  ancestral  dignity  for  which  he  conceives  it  hi* 
duty  to  train  Harry.  But  while  Harry's  fortune*  torn  out  happily. 
Richard's  close  in  tragic  doom. 

Mi  193 


George  Meredith 

of  the  Barry  Lyndon  order.  He  is  not  even 
bitten  with  the  ambition  of  the  great  Mel ;  his 
social  aspiration,  for  all  its  folly,  is  unselfishly 
directed  to  what  he  conceives  to  be  the  best 
interests  of  his  boy  ;  if  it  is  egoism,  it  is  egoism 
of  the  higher  kind.  The  fascination  of  the 
man,  with  his  incorrigibly  dramatic  vein  and 
florid  temper,  throws  Harry  into  the  shade, 
and  the  titular  hero's  character  never  develops 
much  independent  interest.  The  wealth  of 
minor  characters,  of  whom  the  country  folk 
are  specially  good,  and  the  episodical  nature 
of  the  school-scenes,  the  German  scenes,  and 
the  gipsy-adventures,  also  tend  to  divert  the 
reader's  attention,  not  from  the  father's  superb 
faith  in  his  own  genius  and  the  contagion  of 
his  personality,  but  from  the  character  of  the 
son,  who  becomes  little  more  than  a  pawn 
upon  the  chess-board. 

The  following  is  an  outline  of  the  pawn's 
movements. 

Harry  Richmond,  in  his  childhood,  re- 
sembled "  a  kind  of  shuttle-cock  fly  ing  between 
two  battledores."  He  had  the  worst  possible 
training  for  a  child,  an  existence  divided 
between  two  parties  in  his  family.  This  unsat- 
194 


The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond 

isfactory state  of  matterscameaboutasfollows. 
His  father,  a  music-master,  had  eloped  with 
one  of  the  two  daughters  of  Squire  Beltham  of 
Riversley  in  Hampshire.  The  marriage  proved 
unfortunate.  The  lady's  fortune  was  squan- 
dered, and  she  was  driven  crazy  before  her 
death.  Harry*  the  only  child  of  the  marriage, 
was  taken  to  Riversley,  where  his  grandfather 
and  aunt  brought  him  up,  for  four  years. 

Roy  Richmond,  however,  had  plans  for  his 
little  son.  Richmond  was  the  son  of  an  actress, 
Anastasia  Dewsbury.  but  he  firmly  believed 
that  his  father  had  been  one  of  the  Royal  Fam- 
ily, and  he  therefore  determined  to  claim  royal 
honours  for  his  son.  He  called  himself  Augus- 
tus Fitzgeorge  Frederick  William  Richmond 
Guelph  Roy.  Meredith  portrays  him  as  an 
unselfish,  chivalrous,  and  warm-hearted  man, 
with  irresistible  powers  of  fascination,  who 
deceives  even  himself.  He  is  voluble  and  vol- 
atile, half  a  charlatan,  incorrigibly  dramatic,* 

*  He  tells  how  he  used  to  stand,  as  a  boy,  beside  his  nurse-washer- 
woman's tub,  "  blowing  bubbles  and  listening  to  her  prophecies  of  my 
fortune  for  hours  "  (ch.  mix).  This  is  one  of  the  significant  little  touches 
which  Meredith  loves  to  pat  in,  casually.  Another  is  to  be  found  in  the 
44th  chapter  of  "The  Egoist,"  where  Lady  Isabel  recalls  how  Willoughby, 
•8  a  child,  one  day  mounted  a  chair  and  told  the  family,  "  I  am  the  sun  of 


195 


George  Meredith 

a  spendthrift  of  the  first  water,  and  an  im- 
postor on  the  grand  scale.  Roy's  egotism  is 
of  a  glorified  character.  There  is  a  plausible, 
radiant  gaiety  about  him  which  overpowers 
even  his  son's  judgment  till  nearly  the  end 
of  the  tale,  and  which  prevails  with  not  a 
few  women  of  his  acquaintance.  Goethe 
once  wrote: 

Vom  Vater  hab'  ich  die  Statur, 
Des  Lebens  ernstes  Fuhren. 
Whatever  steady  control  of  life  belonged  to 
Harry  Richmond,  he  did  not  inherit  it  from 
his  flamboyant  sire. 

The  novel  opens  with  a  scene  in  which  Roy 
carries  off  Harry  from  Riversley.  The  boy 
is  five  years  old,  and,  after  a  short  time  in 
London,  he  is  sent  finally  to  school.  Mean- 
time Roy  is  off  abroad,  after  financial  troubles 
in  London.  Harry  runs  away  from  school, 
but  is  rescued  from  some  gipsies  by  his  aunt, 
and  taken  home  to  Riversley,  where  he  is 
educated  on  the  tacit  understanding  that  he  is 
heir  to  the  estate,  if  he  breaks  with  his  father. 
Telemachus,  however,  yearns  for  Ulysses. 
From  a  stray  hint  Harry  infers  that  his  father 
is  in  London,  and,  in  company  with  Temple, 
196 


The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond 

a  school-friend,  he  decamps  for  the  metropolis. 
In  a  fog  and  a  crowd,  the  pair  are  kidnapped 
by  a  philanthropic  sea-captain,  who  fancies 
they  have  fallen  into  bad  company  and  thinks 
a  voyage  will  bring  them  to  their  senses.  On 
board  the  "  Priscilla,"  *  in  spite  of  their  pro- 
testations, they  are  carried  to  Germany, 
where  they  manage  to  make  their  way  to  a 
small  German  court.  Here  Roy  is  found, 
match-making  on  Harry's  behalf,  whom  he 
represents  not  only  as  "  the  grandson  and  heir 
of  one  of  the  richest  commoners  in  England  * 
but,  in  addition,  as  possessed  of  royal  blood, 
and  therefore  a  suitable  match  for  princess 
Ottilia,  a  little,  sensible  fairy  of  twelve  or 
thirteen. 

Father  and  son  then  return  to  England  via 
Paris,  "the  central  hotel  on  the  high-road  of 
civilization."  The  squire  welcomes  Harry 
back  to  Riversley,  while  Roy's  career  in 
London  again  lands  him  in  prison  for  debt. 
After  being  released,  by  the  aid  of  Harry  t  the 
incorrigible  spendthrift  displays  himself  at 


*  The  one  touch  of  unreality  in  these  clever  chapters  (xii— xiii)  is  the 
statement  that  two  small  schoolboys  could  recollect  enough  Cicero  and 
Seneca  to  refute  their  captor's  theological  arKuments. 

197 


George  Meredith 

Bath,"  where  a  Welsh  heiress  falls  in  love 
with  him.  This  escapade,  from  which  he 
emerges  scatheless,  opens  Harry's  eyes  to  his 
father's  scheming  character,  but  the  lad's  love 
and  pride  are  unaffected ;  in  fact,  the  very 
contempt  of  the  squire  for  Roy  accentuates 
the  son's  obstinate  determination  to  side 
with  his  erratic  sire.  On  his  twenty-first 
birthday,  Harry  inherits  his  grandmother's 
fortune  and  is  promised  by  the  squire  estates 
and  money  to  the  value  of  £20,000  a  year  on 
the  day  when  he  marries  Miss  Jane  Ilchester, 
the  squire's  protegee.  In  fulfilment  of  an  old 
promise,  however,  he  rejoins  his  father, 
who  carries  him  off  to  Ostend,  where  the 
princess  is  recruiting  after  an  illness.  Harry's 
love  for  Ottilia  and  his  affection  for  his 
father  induce  him  to  furnish  the  latter  with 
funds  to  take  the  princess  for  a  cruise  in 
a  vacht,  which  ends  in  a  visit  to  Sarkfeld. 
Here  the  love-affair  between  Ottilia  and 
Harry  is  wrecked,  not  only  by  her  relatives' 
interference,  but  by  Roy's  attempt  to  en- 


*  It  ii  in  one  of  these  chapters,  the  twenty-iecond,  that  the  famous 
"lei"  »  brought  forward,  which  afterward*  wa»  wed  with  such  serio- 
comic effect  in  "  The  Egoist." 

198 


The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond 

trap  *  the  former  into  a  formal  engagement ; 
the  girl's  self-respect  is  wounded,  and  Harry 
returns  sadly  to  England  with  his  father,  and 
to  Riversley  without  him.  Ere  long  the 
story  of  the  German  affair  leaks  out,  for 
Richmond  is  in  the  field  again,  vaunting  the 
alliance  between  his  son  and  Ottilia.  The 
squire  discovers,  to  his  disgust,  that  Harry's 
money  has  been  at  the  disposal  of  Roy.  All 
remonstrances  with  the  latter  fail.  He  is 
infatuated  by  the  opportunity  of  gaining 
money  to  push  his  claim  to  royal  birth  on 
behalf  of  Harry,  and  thus  to  forward  his 
interests  at  Sarkfeld.  The  invincible  bonhomie 
of  the  man  leads  him  to  venture  on  another 
social  flight  in  London,  where  his  ambitious 
follies  drive  the  squire  to  exasperation  and 
even  alarm  Harry.  Roy  gets  the  latter  elected 
M.P.  for  Chippenden,  and  receives  a 
mysterious  gift  of  £25,000,  which  relieves  him 
from  serious  embarrassment.  This  money  is 
really  paid  by  the  self-sacrificing,  devoted 
Dorothy  Beltham,  who  has  supplied  him 
secretly  with  funds  all  along,  but  Roy,  in  his 

*  The  device  of  •  love-scene  overheard  had  been  already  used  in 
"Sandra  Belloni  "  (ch.  xxxvi). 

199 


George  Meredith 

infatuation,  takes  the  gift  as  a  tacit  attempt 
on  the  part  of  Royalty  to  hush  up  his  claim. 
His  manoeuvres  therefore  become  more  pro- 
nounced than  ever.  He  inveigles  Princess 
Ottilia  over  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  by  sending 
an  exaggerated  report  of  Harry's  health,  and 
apparently  has  the  threads  of  the  plot  in  his 
own  hands.  But  the  entanglement  fails. 
The  meshes  of  the  net  break.  Harry  realises  * 
that  Ottilia  cannot  be  won  in  this  underhand 
fashion,  or  indeed  at  all ;  she  herself  is  too 
high-minded  to  let  Roy,  "  the  hopping,  skip- 
ping social  meteor,  weaver  of  webs,  "manage 
her  destiny ;  her  relatives  interfere  in  time  to 
safeguard  the  honour  of  her  name,  which 
Roy  imagined  could  only  be  saved  by  her 
marriage  to  his  son  ;  the  Squire  and  Janet 
appear  on  the  scene,  and  side  with  the 
princess  ;  finally,  in  a  tremendous  interview, 
Roy  is  denounced  and  exposed  by  the  indig- 
nant squire  as  an  impostor,  a  blackguard,  and 
a  swindler. 

The  squire  only  lives  for  eight  months  after 

*  "  This  looking  at  the  roots  of  yourself,  if  you  are  possessed  of  a  nobler 
half  that  will  do  it,  is  a  sound  corrective  of  an  excessive  ambition.  Un- 
fortunately it  would  seem  that  young  men  can  do  it  only  in  sickness  " 
(cb.  xlvii). 

200 


The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond 

this.  Janet  inherits  all  his  property,  while 
£3,000  a  year  is  Harry's  comparatively  slender 
portion.  The  latter  devotes  himself  to  his 
father,  whose  spirits  are  shattered,  though  he 
never  whines  over  the  collapse  of  his  ambi- 
tions. Ottilia  marries  a  German  prince, 
and  Harry,  still  sore  at  what  he  is  conceited 
enough  to  consider  Janet's  hard  treatment 
of  himself,  goes  off  to  travel  on  the  Continent,* 
returning  to  find  Janet  engaged  to  the  Marquis 
of  Edbury,  a  vicious  young  aristocrat.  He 
then  realises  the  sterling  worth  of  this  ador- 
able English  girl  and  the  depth  of  his  real 
feeling  for  her.  But  it  is  too  late.  On  the 
eve  of  the  marriage,  however,  the  Marquis 
is  killed,  and  Harry  eventually  wins  Janet 
under  Ottilia's  roof.  They  go  back  to 
England,  only  to  find  Riversley  on  fire,  and 
Roy  burned  to  death. 

This  novel  is  one  of  the  easiest  to  read  in 
all  the  series  of  the  Meredith-romances.  It  is 
a  study  in  one  form  of  social  ambition,  but  in 
a  sense  there  is  more  adventure  in  it  than  in 

*  "  Carry  your  fever  to  the  Alps,  yon  of  minds  diseased."  The  passage 
•t  the  close  of  ch.  liii,  beginning  with  these  words,  is  paralleled  by  the 
Alpine  scenes  in  "  Diana  of  the  Crossways  "  (ch.  xv — zvi)  and  partially 
in  "  Beauchamp's  Career  "  (ch.  xlvi,  at  the  beginning). 

201 


George  Meredith 

most  of  the  others,  and  considerably  less 
intrusion  of  philosophic  comment.  Now  and 
again  the  author  pulls  himself  up  with  the 
reflection:  " My  English  tongue  admonishes 
me  that  I  have  fallen  upon  a  tone  resembling 
one  who  uplifts  the  finger  of  piety  in  a  salon 
of  conversation."  *But  as  a  rule  incident  and 
action  abound ;  in  fact,  as  has  been  already 
hinted,  they  abound  to  the  detriment  of  the 
story's  construction. 

Among  the  interspersed  comments,  particu- 
larly in  the  German  scenes,  Meredith  has  put 
some  of  his  keenest  work  into  Dr.  Julius  von 
Karsteg's  incisive  criticism  of  the  English 
character  (ch.  xxix)t  and  Prince  Hermann's 
estimate  of  the  English  in  India  (ch.  xxxiv  : 
"The  masses  in  India  are  in  character 
elephant  all  over,  tail  to  proboscis !  servile 
till  they  trample  you,  and  not  so  stupid  as 
they  look.  But  you've  done  wonders  in 

*  This  semi-serious  apology,  in  eh.  xxxii.  follows  a  profound  passage 
npon  the  influence  of  the  past.  "We  are  sons  of  yesterday,  not  of  the 
morning.  The  past  is  our  mortal  mother,  no  dead  thing." 

t  With  the  description  of  plutocrats  as  "  huge  human  pumpkins,  who 
cover  your  country  and  drain  its  blood  and  intellect,"  compare  the  use  of 
the  gourd  in  "  Beauchamp's  Career  "  (ch.  xxv).  The  swollen,  ungainly 
pumpkin  is  •  favourite  Meredithian  symbol  for  rich  vapidity  and 
selfishness. 

202 


The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond 

in  India,  and  we  can't  forget  it.  Your 
administration  of  justice  is  worth  all  your 
battles  there"),  the  latter  recurring  in  "Lord 
Ormont  and  his  Aminta"  more  than  once. 
The  great  descriptive  passages  are  in  chapters 
ii  and  iii,  where  Harry's  boy  hood  is  delineated, 
in  ch.  xi  (the  fog  in  London),  in  ch.  xv  (the 
meeting  with  Ottilia  in  the  forest),  in  ch.  xxx 
(the  love-scene  beside  the  lake),  and  in  ch. 
xlvi  (Harry's  convalescence  among  the 
gipsies).  In  the  last-named  chapter,  Mere- 
dith contrasts  Kiomi*  with  some  other 
members  of  her  sex.  "  Chastity  of  nature, 
intense  personal  pride,  were  as  proper  to  her 
as  the  free  winds  are  to  the  heaths :  they 
were  as  visible  to  dull  divination  as  the  milky 
blue  about  the  iris  of  her  eyeballs.  She  had 
actually  no  animal  vileness,  animal  though 
she  might  be  termed,  and  would  have 
appeared  if  compared  with  Heriot's  admirable 
Cissies  and  Gwennies,  and  other  ladies  of 
the  Graces  that  run  to  fall,  and  spend  their 
pains  more  in  kindling  the  scent  of  the  hunts- 
man than  in  effectively  flying."  The  said 

*  She  belongs  to  the  line  which  rone  from  the  "  Gitanilla  "  of 
to  Hugo's  "  Esmerclda"  and  Sorrow's  "  Itopel  Beraer*." 


George  Meredith 

Heriot  and  the  Marquis  of  Edbury  divide 
the  rdle  of  Steerforth,  and  it  takes  both 
Heriot  and  Temple  to  do  for  Harry  what 
Ripton  does  for  Richard  Feverel,  or  even 
little  Gollett  for  Matthew  Weyburn.  The 
gipsy  girl,  Kiomi,  and  the  beautiful,  vivacious 
Julia  Rippenger*  are  more  living  than  Mabel 
Sweetwinter,  the  Emly  of  the  story»  but 
Martha  Thresher  and  Mrs.  Waddy  are 
moulded  out  of  the  same  brown  wholesome 
clay  as  Mrs.  Boulby  and  Mrs.  Sumfit  in 
"Rhoda  Fleming."  Mrs.  Waddy's  sub- 
servience to  Roy,  in  fact,  is  the  glorification 
of  Mrs.  Todger's  reverential  attitude  to  Mr. 
Pecksniff. t  As  for  the  squire,  Meredith  has 
sketched  in  him  "the  Tory  mind,  in  its 
attachment  to  solidity,  fixity,  certainty,  its  un- 
matched generosity  within  a  limit,  its  devotion 
to  the  family,  and  its  family  eye  for  the 
country,"  but  in  his  next  novel  he  was  to 
draw  another  type  of  this  sturdy,  loyal 
character,  upon  more  heroic  lines,  in  the 

*  The  love-passages  between  her  and  Heriot  at  school  are  echoed  in 
the  open  in  (S  scenes  of  "  Lord  Ormont  and  hit  Aminta." 

t  "  Give  me  leave  to  tell  you  it  require*  a  most  penetrating  eye  to 
discern  a  fool  through  the  disguises  of  gaiety  and  food  breeding."  Field- 
ing gives  this  saying  to  a  woman  ("  Tom  Jones."  book  xi,  eb.  *). 

204 


The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond 

Earl  of  Romfrey.  It  is  one  proof  of  the 
writer's  skill  that,  while  we  sympathise  with 
the  squire  in  his  contempt  and  anger,  the 
exposure  of  Roy  leaves  us  with  a  certain  pity 
for  the  poor  wretch.  Mr.  Peterborough,  the 
clerical  tutor,  is  treated  with  the  same  deadly 
sarcasm  as  his  fellow  clergymen  in  the  rest  of 
the  novels ;  he  is  a  pompous  and  amorous  lay- 
figure.  The  Bulsted  brothers  are  a  refined, 
upper-class  type  of  the  farcical  pair  in  "  Evan 
Harrington." 

Pride  and  sentimentalism,  as  usual,  are 
among  the  dominant  motives  of  the  tale. 
Harry  has  a  pride  of  his  own,  in  his 
fancied  sense  of  mastery  over  the  squire  and 
of  penetration  into  Janet's  real  character,  as 
well  as  in  the  craving  for  "the  vain  glitter  of 
hereditary  distinction  "  (ch.  xxxiii),  which  he 
caught  from  Roy,  but  the  sentimentalism  of 
his  nonsensical  airs  is  equally  marked.  He 
allows  his  dreams  of  his  father  and  his  roman- 
tic attachment  to  Ottilia  to  interfere  with  his 
better  judgment,  till  they  blind  him  to  the 
real  facts  of  the  case.  As  he  confesses,  he 
was  an  egotist.  His  self-love  was  his  worst 
enemy.  * '  I  remember  walking  at  my  swiftest 
205 


George  Meredith 

pace,  blaming  everybody  I  knew  for  insuffi- 
ciency, for  want  of  subordination  to  my 
interests,  for  poverty  of  nature,  grossness, 
blindness  to  the  fine  lights  shining  in  me ;  I 
blamed  the  Fates  for  harassing  me,  circum- 
stances for  not  surrounding  me  with  friends 
worthy  of  me.  The  central  /  resembled  the 
sun  of  this  universe,  with  the  difference  that 
it  shrieked  for  nourishment,  instead  of  dis- 
pensing it.  My  monstrous  conceit  of  elevation 
will  not  suffer  condensation  into  sentences." 
It  is  the  carnival  of  egotism  which  occurs  in 
the  love-season  of  youth. 

Like  Evan  Harrington,  Harry  is  brought  to 
his  senses  by  the  influence  of  good  and  true 
women.  Janet  Ilchester  read  him  more  truly 
than  Princess  Ottilia,*  and  while  the  character 
of  the  latter  is  drawn  in  exquisite  half-lines, 
it  is  the  English  girl  who  develops  better. 
Meredith  makes  her  a  woman  of  courage  and 
sense.  From  "a  bold,  plump  girl,  fond  of 
male  society,"  she  grows  into  a  splendid 
Englishwoman,  self-reliant  and  shrewd,  "  as 

*  As  later  in  "  The  Egoist,"  so  here,  Meredith  shows  how  two  women, 
interested  in  the  same  man.  are  able  to  avoid  suspicion  of  one  another,  if 
they  are  large-hearted  enough.  The  relations  between  Lady  Charlotte  and 
Emilia,  in  "Sandra  Belloni."  are  similar  bnt  inferior. 

206 


The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond 

firm  as  a  rock  and  as  sweet  as  a  flower  on  it." 
Ottilia  is  more  elusive.  She  is  apparently  in 
love  with  Harry,  but  courage  is  required  to 
bring  their  love  to  a  point,  and  her  traditions 
and  training  handicap  her.  She  has  not  even 
the  help  of  finding  courage  in  Harry,  who 
misses  her  as  Beauchamp  missed  Renee. 
"She  was  a  woman  who  could  only  love 
intelligently — love,  that  is,  in  the  sense  of 
giving  herself.  She  had  the  power  of  passion, 
and  it  could  be  stirred  ;  but  he  who  kindled  it 
wrecked  his  chance  if  he  could  not  stand  clear 
in  her  intellect's  unsparing  gaze."  Ottilia, 
especially  after  her  illness,  let  her  romantic 
imagination  dwell  on  Harry ;  but  her  native 
sense  soon  controlled  the  generous  sentiment 
of  her  heart,  and  she  was  saved  from  what 
would  have  been  a  mesalliance  by  her  per- 
ception of  Roy's  scheming*  and  of  Harry's 
weaknesses.  At  the  same  time,  her  marriage 
to  the  German  prince  is  left  unexplained, 


*  One  of  Roy's  ejaculations  recalrs  a  sentence  in  "  The  Ordeal  of  Richard 
Feverel."  When  he  is  baffled  by  the  straightforwardness  of  Lieschen,  a 
German  maid,  he  apostrophises  the  untameable  things  of  life  as  "  Idiots, 
insects,  women,  and  the  salt  sea  ocean  1  "  Meredith  had  already  remarked 
that  "argument  with  Mrs.  Doria  was  like  firing  paper-pellets  against  a 
•fame-wall." 

207 


George  Meredith 

as  is  Janet's  engagement  to  the  Marquis 
Edbury-  The  episode  of  the  election  (in  ch. 
xliii)  is  equally  loose  ;  but  in  his  next  novel 
Meredith  was  to  lift  English  politics  into  a 
really  central  place,  just  as  he  was  to  draw  at 
full  length  in  Cecilia  Halkett  the  figure  which 
he  had  merely  outlined  in  Clara  Goodwin. 


BEAUGHAMP'S  CAREER 


Beauchamp's  Career 

TN  1868  Meredith  assisted  his  friend, 
-*-  Captain  Frederick  Maxse,  R.N.,  who 
was  standing  as  Radical  candidate  for  South- 
ampton after  a  brilliant  phase  of  service  in 
the  Crimea.  "Beauchamp's  Career,"  first 
published  in  book-form  in  1876,  was  an 
outcome  of  this  electioneering  experience. 
Captain  (afterwards  Admiral)  Maxse  was 
one  of  the  author's  closest  friends  ;  "  Modern 
Love "  had  been  dedicated  to  him  in  1862  ; 
and  it  was  this  personal  friendship  which  lent 
such  glow  to  the  delineation  of  Nevil  Beau- 
champ's  character  and  also  helped  to  make 
the  novel  one  of  the  richest  in  the  Meredith- 
series.  The  author  frankly  confesses  it  is  a 
political  novel,  but  the  reader  need  not  be 
afraid.  This  is  neither  a  viewy  nor  a  dull 
book;  it  is  political  in  the  sense  that  all 
questions  of  social  reform  and  imperial  policy 
are  viewed  through  the  vivid,  engaging. 
211 


George  Meredith 

temperament  of  a  personality.*  The  book  has 
no  plot.  Nevil  Beauchamp's  career  seems 
to  be  opening  just  when  he  is  drowned. 
But  the  episodes  of  the  sailor  -  politician's 
life  can  be  arranged  so  as  to  throw  light 
upon  his  development,  more  easily  than  in 
the  case  of  "Vittoria,"  which  is  equally 
plotless. 

The  outline  of  events  is  as  follows. 

Nevil  Beauchamp  is  an  orphan  ;  his  father, 
a  colonel  in  the  British  army,  had  married 
the  eldest  sister  of  the  Hon.  Everard  Romfrey, 
of  Steynham  in  Sussex,  a  sturdy  aristocrat. 
Nevil  had  become  a  midshipman,  and  when 
the  story  opens  his  chivalrous  temper  is 
excited  on  behalf  of  his  country,  which  is 
threatened  by  a  French  invasion.t  He  also 
fights  a  young  cousin,  Cecil  Baskelett,  for 
casting  reflections  upon  the  name  of  Mrs. 


*  "  I  give  yon  the  position  of  the  country  .  .  .  The  youth  I  introduce  to 
you  will  rarely  let  us  escape  from  it ;  for  the  reason  that  he  was  born  with 
•o  extreme  and  passionate  a  love  for  his  country,  that  he  thought  all  things 
else  of  mean  importance  in  companion." 

t  The  prose  version  of  the  panic  in  1853  will  be  found  in  Morley's  "Life 
of  Cobden "  (ch.  xxiii).  The  third  and  fourth  chapters  of  the  novel 
should  be  read  along  with  the  twenty-fourth  chapter  of  the  same 
biography. 

212 


Beauchamp's  Career 

Rosamund  Gulling,*  the  widow  of  an  English 
officer,  who  keeps  house  for  his  uncle,  and 
who  has  a  warm,  maternal  love  for  the  boy. 
When  the  Crimean  war  breaks  out,  he  agrees 
with  Bright  and  the  Manchester  school — to 
his  uncle's  disgust.  But,  when  ordered  to 
the  Dardanelles,  he  behaves  pluckily.  A 
French  friend,  Captain  Roland  de  Croisnel, 
takes  him  to  Venice,  to  recover  from  a 
wound,  and  there  he  falls  madly  in  love  with 
his  friend's  sister,  a  lovely  girl  of  seventeen. 
Roland  owes  his  life  to  Nevil,  and  the  girl's 
gratitude  presently  ripens,  under  the  subtle 
charm  of  the  place  and  of  Beauchamp's 
personality,  into  a  warmer  feeling.  Renee, 
however,  has  been  already  promised  by  her 
father  to  a  middle-aged  French  count,  who 
appears  upon  the  scene.  She  refuses,  t  after 

*  One  of  Richardson's  lady-correspondent*  pled  with  him  to  make  a 
widow  the  heroine  of  a  story.  "I  wish  to  see  an  exemplary  widow  drop 
from  your  pen."  Rosamund  Culling  is  Meredith's  nearest  approach  to 
this,  for  Lady  Blandish  and  Lady  Grace  Halley  are  secondary  figures ; 
Mrs.  Chump  is  out  of  the  question,  and  the  rest  are  either  not  exemplary 
or  unimportant.  He  never  challenged  the  laurels  won  by  Thackeray  in 
"  Esmond." 


t  Lack  of  courage  at  Venice,  as  afterwards  at  Tourde 


from  breaking  through  conventionalities ;  but  Meredith  also  mention* 
the  sense  of  duty  to  her  family.  He  was  in  love  with  this  Frenchwoman 
among  his  heroines,  and  the  reader  is  almost  inclined  to  share  hi*  feeling* 
towards  her. 

213 


George  Meredith 

a  passionate  love-scene  with  Nevil  (in  the 
glorious  chapters  viii  and  ix),  to  obey  the 
instincts  of  her  heart  and  marry  the  English 
officer.  NeviPs  appeals  by  letter  to  his  uncle 
only  provoke  the  latter's  amusement,  and, 
instead  of  returning  to  settle  in  England,  he 
goes  off  cruising  in  the  Mediterranean  on  a 
war-ship,  and  serves  with  distinction  on  the 
African  coast.  He  is  made  commander. 
When  he  does  return  to  England,  it  is  to 
stand  as  Radical  candidate  for  Bevisham, 
under  the  aegis  of  a  Dr.  Shrapnel,  aged 
eighty-six,  who  is  a  single-minded  Radical 
agitator  against  game-laws,  land-laws,  creeds, 
and  marriage-laws. 

Everard  Romfrey,  annoyed  at  this  breach  in 
the  family  traditions  of  Toryism,  puts  up  Cecil 
Baskelett,  now  an  idle,  mischievous  army 
officer,  as  the  rival  candidate.  At  the  height 
of  the  canvass,  an  enigmatic  message  from 
Renee  summons  Beauchamp  to  Tourdestelle, 
her  country-seat  in  France,  where  she  had 
boasted  to  a  young  admirer  about  her  English 
friend's  chivalry,  and  had  staked  her  glove  that 
he  would  respond  to  her  summons  within  a 
specified  term  of  hours.  As  a  storm  had  delayed 
214 


Beauchamp's  Career 

im  beyond  his  time,  the  glove  is  forfeited,  but 
Beauchamp  recovers  it,  outwits  his  French 
rival,  and  returns  to  England,  leaving  Renee 
as  he  had  found  her,  a  neglected,  unhappy 
wife.  Her  whim  costs  Nevil  his  election. 
The  repeated  rumours  of  an  intrigue  with  a 
Frenchwoman  ruin  his  chances,  and  he  is  at 
the  bottom  of  the  poll.  He  also  endangers 
his  chances  in  another  direction.  Miss 
Cecilia  Halkett,  the  daughter  of  an  English 
colonel,  an  heiress,  a  yachtswoman,  and  a 
beauty,  finds  it  harder  than  ever  to  champion 
her  friend  Beauchamp  against  the  persistent 
gossip  of  the  county,  while  the  glamour  of 
Renee  prevents  him  from  doing  justice  to  the 
splendid  qualities  of  the  English  girl's  char- 
acter. *  Mrs.  Culling  does  her  best  to  open 
his  eyes  to  his  opportunity.  His  uncle 
favours  the  match,  and  even  Renee  writes, 
advising  him  to  marry.  He  does  make  a  move 
towards  Cecilia.  But  matters  are  suddenly 
twisted  by  an  unscrupulous  action  t  on  the 

*  A  more  creditable  scruple  also  swayed  him ;  he  was  at  this  time 
in  need  of  money  (see  ch.  mix). 

t  Done  under  the  influence  of  liquor  :  bat  it  w.i  bad  wine.  Meredith 

215 


George  Meredith 

part  of  Captain  Baskelett,  who  misrepresents 
Dr.  Shrapnel  to  Everard  Romfrey  as  having 
reflected  on  Mrs.  Culling's  character.  Rom- 
frey's  anger  leads  him  to  horsewhip  the 
doctor,*  for  which  Nevil  insists  that  he  must 
apologise.  Romfrey,  however,  appeals  to 
Mrs.  Culling  for  proof  that  Shrapnel  had 
previously  insulted  her,  when  she  went  to 
remonstrate  with  him  for  entangling  Nevil. 
She  has  not  courage  to  confess  that  her 
personal  dislike  for  Shrapnel  had  led  her  to 
exaggerate  the  doctor's  language  into  an  un- 
truth, giving  Romfrey  a  wrong  impression  of 
him.  Her  weakness  has  the  effect  of 
confirming  Romfrey  in  his  refusal  to  apologise, 
and  of  embittering  Nevil  against  his  uncle  and 
herself.  "You  set  fire  to  the  train,"  the 
indignant  youth  tells  her.  "You  hated  the 
old  man,  and  you  taught  Mr.  Romfrey  to 
think  you  had  been  insulted.  I  see  it  all. 
Now  you  must  have  the  courage  to  tell  him 
of  your  error."  His  very  courtship  of  Cecilia 


*  He  doe*  not  describe  the  horsewhipping,  any  more  than  Wilfrid'* 
castration  of  Mr.  Pericles  in  "Sandra  Belloni";  even  the  account  in 
"  One  of  Our  Conquerors  "  (ch.  xxxvii)  U  bare  and  allusive.  Similarly 
with  the  duela  throughout  the  novels  :  Meredith  often  discusses  them,  but 
he  aeyer  describe*  them,  although  they  are  sometimes  rital  to  hi*  plot 

216 


Beauchamp's  Career 

is  subordinated  to  the  desire  of  exacting  an 
apology  from  Everard. 

The  unexpected  succession  of  the  latter  to 
the  title  of  Lord  Avonley  only  whets  Beau- 
champ's  zeal,  until  his  uncle  is  stung  into 
losing  his  temper  and  retorting  with  a  demand 
that  Beauchamp  shall  apologise  to  Mrs. 
Culling ;  when  the  youth  refuses,  he  is  or- 
dered to  leave  the  family  house  in  London 
which  he  had  been  allowed  to  tenant.  Sud- 
denly Renee  appears  in  London,  flying  in 
desperation  from  her  husband  to  throw  herself 
on  Nevil's  protection.  But,  like  Clotilde  in 
"  The  Tragic  Comedians,"  she  is  taken  aback. 
She  finds  that  her  lover  wishes  prudently  to 
safeguard  her  position,  before  taking  any  rash 
step,  instead  of  impetuously  carrying  her  off.* 
He  telegraphs  for  Mrs.  Culling  to  chaperon 
her,  and  her  family  are  summoned,  like  Prin- 
cess Ottilia's  in  "  The  Adventures  of  Harry 
Richmond,"  to  safeguard  her  reputation. 


*  Besides,  Shrapnel's  ethical  teaching  upon  the  danger  of  passion  inter- 
fering  with  duty  had  borne  fruit.  "He  could  not  possibly  talk  to  her, 
who  had  cast  the  die,  of  his  later  notions  of  morality  and  the  world's 
dues,  fees,  and  claims  on  us."  "  A  man  standing  against  the  world  in  « 
good  cause,  with  a  runaway  wife  on  his  hands,  carries  a  burden,  however 
precious  it  be  to  him."  But  he  cannot  admit  thi«  scruple  to  the  runaway 

217 


George  Meredith 

Rente,  half  against  her  will,  is  again  saved 
from  herself  by  Beauchamp.  Before  the 
French  party  leave,  Lord  Avonley  at  last 
manages  to  persuade  Mrs.  Gulling  to  marry 
him,  while  Cecilia,  at  the  fresh  evidence  of 
what  seems  to  be  Beauchamp's  persistent  in- 
fatuation for  Renee,  feels  it  unmaidenly  to  let 
her  heart  go  out  to  him  any  longer.  She  and 
her  father  start  for  Italy  ;  on  her  return  she 
agrees  to  marry  a  Mr.  Blackburn  Tuckham, 
who  has  been  persistently  wooing  her.  She 
has  no  sooner  done  so  than  Beauchamp  arrives 
to  propose  to  her  on  his  own  account.  After  a 
last  interview  they  part,  she  bitterly  re- 
proaching herself  for  having  ever  doubted 
him,  he  stunned  by  the  loss  of  a  woman  whom 
he  had  only  learned  to  appreciate  rightly  when 
it  was  too  late. 

Meantime  Lady  Avonley,  who  is  expecting 
her  first  child,  *  is  broken-hearted  at  Nevil'f 
loss  of  Cecilia,  and  blames  herself  bitterly  for 
her  cowardice  in  having  failed  to  give  her 
husband  a  true  account  of  Shrapnel's  conduct 

*  This  it  the  third  instance  of  Meredith's  insight  into  the  effects  pro- 
dnced  by  maternity  upon  •  woman's  character.  He  had  touched  the  same 
strut*  in  describing  Lucy  Feverel  and  Vittoria  A mmiani.  and  be  was  to  do 
so  again,  with  even  greater  power,  in  Cartnthia  Fleetwood. 

218 


Beauchamp's  Career 

towards  herself.  She  sets  herself  to  per- 
suade the  Earl  to  make  an  apology.  The 
news  of  Nevil's  illness  swells  her  eagerness ; 
she  plans  to  apologise  herself ;  and  eventually 
her  husband,  in  order  to  pacify  her,  bends 
his  pride  and  apologises  handsomely  to  Dr. 
Shrapnel. 

This  is  the  emotional  climax  of  the  story. 
The  last  two  chapters  huddle  up  the  closing 
events  of  the  career  of  Beauchamp.  On 
recovering  from  his  illness  he  marries  Jenny 
Denham,  the  doctor's  ward,  who  has  been 
his  nurse.  The  marriage  is  one  of  gratitude, 
rather  than  of  love,  but  the  pair  are  happy 
together  during  their  brief  married  life.  It  is 
brief,  for,  a  year  later,  Beauchamp  is  drowned 
in  the  Otley,  when  rescuing  a  little  boy. 

The  gratuitous  tragedy  of  Beauchamp's 
death  lies  open  to  the  same  shafts  of  criticism 
as  fell  upon  the  conclusion  of  "The  Ordeal 
of  Richard  Feverel."  But  it  is  thankless  to 
dwell  on  any  such  flaws  of  construction  when 
the  novel  offers  a  wealth  of  pregnant  insight 
and  romance  which  is  unrivalled  in  the  entire 
series  of  the  Meredithian  stories.  It  is  not  a 
one-figure  book,  by  any  means,  but  the  hero's 
219 


George  Meredith 

character  *  is  the  outstanding  feature  of  its 
pages.  Beauchamp  is  a  young  naval  officer 
of  the  best  type,  full  of  spirit,  keen  on  his 
profession,  chivalrous, t  and  tenacious  of  his 
purpose.  What  deflects  him,  like  Alvan,  is 
the  disturbing  element  of  passion.  In  his 
romantic  adoration  of  Renee  Meredith  marks 
the  danger  of  passion  being  stirred  too  early, 
when  the  nature  is  apt  to  be  swayed  beyond 
the  control  of  reason.  Eve  came  too  soon 
upon  the  scene.  Beauchamp's  love  is  no 
mere  susceptibility  to  the  charms  of  women. 
He  remains  loyal  to  Renee.  But  while  his 
nature  is  not  inflammable,  it  is  described  as 
thrown  out  of  its  proper  balance  and  harmony 
by  the  entrance  of  this  love-passion  for  the 
French  girl.  Strongly  as  Meredith  empha- 
sises the  truth  that  a  capacity  for  being  stirred 
and  moved  by  passion  forms  an  element  of  all 
growth,  he  is  thoroughly  alive  to  the  risk  of 
it  breaking  loose  from  the  sovereign  brain. 
One  of  the  most  unfortunate  results  of  this 


*  He  begins  on  the  good  foundation  of  hero-worship,  not  only  for  men 
of  action  bat  for  men  of  ideas  like  Carlyle.  This  saves  him  from  being 
conceited  and  priggish,  even  in  his  youthful  propaganda  against  the  Tory- 
ism of  his  relations. 

t  He  inherited  this  from  his  father  (see  ch.  xxri). 

220 


Beauchamp's  Career 

aberration,  in  the  case  of  Beauchamp,  is  the 
injustice  which  he  does  to  himself  and  to 
Cecilia  Halkett.*  She  is  wasted  upon  Mr. 
Blackburn  Tuckham,  a  dogmatic,  exuberant 
Tory  with  "  a  round  head,  square  flat  fore- 
head, and  ruddy  face  ;  he  stood  as  if  his  feet 
claimed  the  earth  under  them  for  his  own." 
The  comic  spirit  revels  in  this  type  of  English- 
man. Every  touch  tells.  "  On  the  question 
of  politics,  '  I  venture  to  state/  he  remarked 
in  anything  but  the  tone  of  a  venture,  *  that 
no  educated  man  of  ordinary  sense  who  has 
visited  our  colonies  will  come  back  a  Liberal.' 
As  for  a  man  of  sense  and  education  being  a 
Radical,  he  scouted  the  notion  with  a  pooh 
sufficient  to  awaken  a  vessel  in  the  doldrums." 
Mr.  Tuckham  still  walks  on  the  grain-giving 
earth,  though  the  Cecilia  Halketts  of  real 
life  are  more  likely  to  throw  themselves  away 
on  detestable,  plausible  army  captains  like 

*  She  had  all  the  making!  of  a  true  mate  for  Beaaohamp.  In  ch.  xxxiv. 
after  describing  her  fresh,  graceful  beauty,  Meredith  gives  her  this  keen 
taring :  "  Intellectual  differences  do  not  cause  wounds,  except  when  very 
nnintellectual  sentiments  are  behind'them : — my  conceit,  your  impatience." 
Impatience  was  Beauchamp's  defect.  Cecilia's  was  not  conceit,  whatever 
it  may  have  been;  feminine  prejudice  in  her,  as  in  Mrs.  Culling,  is 
responsible  for  mistakes  of  judgment,  but  Meredith  draws  her  quick- 
witted, warm,  high-spirited,  and  noble  character  in  colours  which  leave 
her  only  second  to  Diana  among  the  Englishwomen  of  the  novels. 

221 


George  Meredith 

Cecil  Baskelett  than  on  dry  politicians. 
Tuckham,  however,  was  a  gentleman ;  and 
he  had  more  ideas  than  Mr.  Caddis  or  than 
Sir  Twickenham  Pryme,  who  bored  the 
Misses  Pole  with  his  mangold-wurzel  and 
statistics.  Meredith  drew  him  partly  from 
his  old  and  valued  friend,  Sir  William  Hard- 
man,  editor  of  the  "Morning  Post." 

The  second  weakness  in  the  youth's  char- 
acter was  the  intolerance  produced  by  the 
domination  of  a  single  idea.*  Meredith 
shows  (especially  in  ch.  xxxviii)  how  he  got 
irritated  by  opposition,  and  irritated  instead  of 
conciliating  others,  the  reason  being  that  he 
had  "given  up  his  brains  for  a  lodging  to  a 
single  idea.  It  is  at  once  a  devouring  dragon 
and  an  intractable  steam  force.  Inspired  of 
solitude  and  gigantic  size  it  claims  divine 
origin."  In  Nevil's  case,  it  prevented  him 
from  doing  justice  to  his  opponents,  and  it  led 
him  to  consider  Cecilia  less  as  a  woman  than 
as  a  splendid  prize  to  be  cut  out  by  means  of 
Radical  argument  from  under  the  guns  of  the 


*  This  motif  recurs  in  "  One  of  Oar  Conquerors."  bat  it  is  also  noted  in 
"The  Amazinf  Marriage"  (see  Carinthia't  confession  to  Rebecca 
Wythan  in  eh.  zxx). 

222 


Beauchamp's  Career 

Tory  fort.  Cecilia  evidently  shared  Lady 
Mary  Montagu's  opinion  that  politics  and 
controversy  were  as  unbecoming  to  the  sex 
as  the  dress  of  a  prizefighter.  She  wanted 
love  not  logic.* 

The  real  strength  of  Beauchamp  lay  in  (0)  his 
fine  public  spirit.  "  He  questioned  his  justifi- 
cation, and  yours,  for  gratifying  tastes  in  an 
ill-regulated  world  of  wrong-doing,  suffering, 
sin,  and  bounties  unrighteously  dispensed 
— not  sufficiently  dispersed."  A  true  aristo- 
cracy, he  held,  should  lead  the  people,  instead 
of  lolling  in  luxury.  (£)  He  had  also  brains, 
and  used  them,  (c)  He  was  not  a  senti- 
mentalist, though  he  was  an  idealist. 
"  Beauchampism  may  be  said  to  stand  for 
nearly  everything  which  is  the  obverse  of 
Byronism,  and  shuns  the  statuesque  pathetic, 
or  any  kind  of  posturing."  Meredith  is  much 
fairer  to  Byron  than,  e.g.,  Peacock  ever 
could  bring  himself  to  be,  but  Byronism  he 
derided  on  all  occasions,  and  Beauchamp 
serves  as  its  natural  foil. 


*  When  she  defended,  for  argument's  sake  partly,  her  inherited  ToryUm. 
he  felt  she  was  "  not  yet  so  thoroughly  mastered  as  to  grant  her  husband 
his  just  prevalence  with  her  "  1 

223 


George  Meredith 

Ten  years  earlier,  George  Eliot  had  pub- 
lished her  political  novel,  but,  while  "Felix 
Holt"  and  " Beauchamp's  Career"  both  turn 
upon  the  same  problem,  viz.,  the  love-inter- 
ests of  a  young  man  as  these  are  affected  by 
pre-occupation  in  political  and  social  reforms, 
the  heroes  differ  widely.  Felix  Holt  is  a 
Radical  of  the  1832  period,  Beauchamp  belongs 
to  an  age  twenty  years  later.  The  one  is  a 
fiery  Glasgow  student,  the  other  a  naval 
officer  ;  the  one  is  lacking  in  masculine  fibre, 
whereas  Beauchamp  is  never  mawkish ; 
Beauchamp,  too,  is  the  chivalrous  gentleman 
throughout,  even  when  he  bores  Gecilia  and 
remonstrates  with  Mrs.  Gulling  hotly,  while 
Felix  Holt  plies  Esther  with  rude  taunts  upon 
her  pretensions  to  be  a  fine  lady. 

Meredith's  sympathies  are  obvious  here,  as 
in  "Vittoria,"  but  in  both  novels  he  writes 
with  impartial  justice.  The  Liberal  spouter, 
Timothy  Turbot,  and  the  incorruptible  (!) 
Radical,  Tomkins,  are  painted  as  faithfully  as 
the  brainless  Tory  aristocrats ;  the  political 
analysis  wrings  the  withers  of  Liberal,  Tory, 
and  Radical  alike.  The  election  is  described 
with  more  lavish  detail  than  in  "TheAdven- 
224 


Beauchamp's  Career 

tures  of  Harry  Richmond,"  and  the  description 
contains  far  more  than  humorous  incidents  or 
the  stock-in-trade  of  the  subject.  Dr.  Shrap- 
nel's letter,  and  indeed  his  conversation 
throughout  the  novel,  simply  epitomise  the 
characteristic  opinions  which  Meredith  voices 
in  "The  Empty  Purse,"  "Foresight  and 
Patience,"  "The  Old  Chartist,"  "Aneurin's 
Harp,"  "To  Colonel  Charles,"  "England 
Before  the  Storm,"  "A  Faith  on  Trial," 
"Hard  Weather,"  and  "The  Test  of  Man- 
hood." One  of  the  fairest  criticisms  of 
Shrapnel  is  put  into  the  mouth  of  Seymour 
Austin,  who  thus  defines  the  politics  of 
impatience.  "He  perceives  a  bad  adjustment 
of  things  ;  which  is  correct.  He  is  honest, 
and  takes  his  honesty  for  a  virtue  :  and  that 
entitles  him  to  believe  in  himself :  and  that 
belief  causes  him  to  see  in  all  opposition  to 
him  the  wrong  he  has  perceived  in  existing 
circumstances  :  and  so  in  a  dream  of  power 
he  invokes  the  people :  and  as  they  do  not 
stir,  he  takes  to  prophecy." 

The  wonderful  love-scenes  on  the  Adriatic 
and  at  Venice  are  an  expansion  of  the  hints 
in  Vittoria  (ch.  xxx),  where  "  Ammiani 

o  225 


George  Meredith 

remembered  his  having  stood  once  on  the 
Lido  of  Venice,  and  eyed  the  dawn  across  the 
Adriatic,  and  dreamed  that  Violetta  was  born 
of  the  loveliness  and  held  in  her  bosom  the 
hopes  of  morning,"  and  also  in  "  The  Ordeal 
of  Richard  Feverel"  where  Richard  dreamed 
of  floating  with  Bella  in  a  gondola  "past  grand 
old  towers,  colossal  squares,  gleaming  quays, 
and  out  and  on  with  her,  on  into  the  silver 
infinity  shaking  over  seas."  Incidentally, 
Meredith  throws  in  a  number  of  edged  aphor- 
isms (e.g.  "  Shrugging  and  sneering  is  about 
as  honourable  as  blazing  fireworks  over  your 
own  defeat, "  and  "  most  of  our  spiritual 
guides  neglect  the  root  to  trim  the  flower "), 
states  his  views  on  journalism  *  (ch.  xliv),  on 
the  English  church  (chs.  xvii  and  xxix)  and 
the  clergy  in  general  (ch.  Ivi),  on  luxury  and 
wealth,  and  on  the  army  and  navy.  The 
various  descriptions  of  the  women's  beauty 
(e.g.  "  Cecilia  was  a  more  beautiful  woman 
than  Renee  :  but  on  which  does  the  eye  linger 
longest — which  draws  the  heart?  a  radiant 
landscape,  where  the  tall  ripe  wheat  flashes 

*  Compare  I.ytton'i  treatment  of  Mr.  JtckTibbcti  in  "The  Caxton*." 
226 


Beauchamp's  Career 

between  shadow  and  shine  in  the  stately 
march  of  Summer,  or  the  peep  into  dewy 
woodland  on  to  dark  water  ?  "),  the  account 
of  Garlyle's  ityle  (ch.  ii)  *  and  of  John  Bright 
(ch.  iv),  the  subtle  analysis  of  chapters  xl — 
xlii,  and  the  yachting-scenes  t  (especially  that 
in  ch.  xv),  are  all  examples  of  the  author's 
versatility  and  rare  powers  of  imagination. 
The  allusion  to  women  ("  who  dare  not  be 
spontaneous.  This  is  their  fate,  only  in 
degree  less  inhuman  than  that  of  Hellenic  and 
Trojan  princesses  offered  up  to  the  Gods  ")  in 
ch.xxxii,  by  the  way,  is  repeated  in  the  next 
novel  (see  the  end  of  ch.  xliii  of  "The 
Egoist ").  Seymour  Austin  (see  the  character- 
isation in  ch.  xxxix)  is  modelled  on  the  lines 
of  Merthyr  Powys,  but  unfortunately  we 
get  too  little  of  him  and  his  conversation. 
Stukely  Culbrett,  again,  is  kept  within  limits 
more  successfully  than  his  more  acid  fellow- 
satirist,  Golney  Durance,  in  "One  of  Our 
Conquerors." 
In  the  original  version  of  ch.  liv,  Jenny 

*  There  is  a.  fine  tribute  to  Cariyle's  humour  in  "The  Essay  on 
Comedy." 

t  Nevil  it  •  more  expert  yachtsman  than  Richard  Feverel  or  Redworth. 
naturally. 


George  Meredith 

Denham,  who  is  one  of  the  first-rate  musical 
amateurs  in  Meredith,  plays  the  ninth  sym- 
phony of  Beethoven  on  the  piano.  This  would 
be  strong  meat  even  for  a  musical  enthusiast 
in  good  health,  and  Beauchamp  was  neither 
the  one  (see  ch.  xxxii)  nor  the  other.  But  it 
would  require  a  full  orchestra  and  chorus. 
Besides,  it  would  take  up  a  whole  evening. 
In  response  to  friendly  remonstrances,  the 
author  has  restricted  Jenny  in  the  later 
editions  to  selections  from  the  aforesaid 
symphony. 

Meredith  makes  Jenny  Denham  walk  "  like 
a  yacht  before  the  wind."  He  is  fond  of  com- 
paring ships  and  girls,  and  there  is  more 
about  the  sea  in  this  story  than  in  any  of  its 
predecessors.  Cecilia  "loved  the  sea,  and 
the  stinging  salt  spray,  and  circling  gull  and 
plunging  gurnet,  the  sun  on  the  waves  and 
the  torn  cloud."  To  love  Beauchamp,  as  she 
did,  was  like  being  at  sea  in  a  storm.  The  sea 
is  more  than  an  apt  background  for  several  of 
the  episodes,  however.  It  symbolises  the 
vitality  and  freshness  and  pulse  of  the  ideas 
which  surge  through  the  novel.  "Beau- 
champ's  Career"  is  a  clever  book,  but 


Beauchamp's  Career 

cleverness  is  the  last  thing  we  think  about  as 
we  read  its  pages.  It  is  an  ennobling  and 
inspiriting  book,  and  a  large  part  of  its 
attractiveness  lies  in  the  delineation  of  human 
nature  in  contact  with  the  surge  and  spray  of 
deep  elemental  forces  in  the  modern  world. 
In  his  next  great  novel  Meredith  was  to  bend, 
with  keen  eyes,  over  an  inland  pool. 


229 


THE  HOUSE  ON  THE  BEACH 


The  House  on  the  Beach 


realistic  tale,"  published  in  "The 
New  Quarterly  Magazine  "  for  January, 
1877,  is  a  study  in  the  social  ambitions  of  a 
tradesman.  The  hero,  a  fussy,  local  magis- 
trate, recalls  the  type  satirised  by  Dickens  in 
Mr.  Nupkins  of  "The  Pickwick  Papers,"  but 
he  is  used  by  Meredith  to  illustrate  the  absurd- 
ity and  mischief  of  social  aspirations.  The 
desire  to  mount  in  the  scale  of  society  leads  to 
affectation,  unreality,  unhappiness,  and  the 
breaking  of  old,  true  ties  :  such  is  the  burden 
of  this  story,  as  of  "Rhoda  Fleming"  and 
"  Sandra  Belloni  *  especially.  "  The  land  is  in 
<5  of  fermentation  to  mount."  Meredith, 
Thackeray  before  him,  satirises  in  parti- 
cuic.r  the  effort  to  throw  off  the  name  of  trades- 
man as  he  had  already  done  at  greater  length 
in  "Evan  Harrington,"  although  "satirises"  is 
hardly  the  right  word  to  use  in  this  connexion, 
for  in  Herbert  Fellingham  Meredith  shows 
233 


George  Meredith 

once  more  the  futility  of  mere  satire  as  a 
corrective  power  in  human  life,  just  as  in 
Mrs.  Grickledon,  the  joiner's  wife,  he  draws 
a  picture  of  the  sensible,  common  woman, 
which  recalls  the  more  important  sketch  of 
Mrs.  Berry. 

Mr.  Mart  Tinman  is  a  retired  tradesman 
who  has  become  bailiff  of  Grikswich,  one  of 
the  Cinque  Ports.  He  resides  with  his 
widowed  sister  in  a  house  on  the  beach 
"  posted  where  it  stood,  one  supposes,  for  the 
sake  of  the  sea- view,  from  which  it  turned 
right  about  to  face  the  town  across  a  patch  of 
grass  and  salt  scurf,  looking  like  a  square  and 
scornful  corporal  engaged  in  the  perpetual 
review  of  an  awkward  squad  of  recruits." 
Tinman  has  strong  social  ambitions.  He  has 
retired  from  business  at  the  age  of  40,  in  the 
hope  of  marrying  "  a  born  lady,"  but  his 
matrimonial  aims  have  failed ;  Tinman  is 
handicapped  fatally  by  his  low  birth,  an  un- 
certainty about  his  h's,  and  his  bad  wine. 
When  the  story  opens,  he  is  trying  another 
tack.  He  is  anxious  to  present  an  address  to 
the  Queen,  congratulating  her  in  the  name  of 
the  Port  on  the  betrothal  of  one  of  the 
234 


The  House  on  the  Beach 

princesses,  and,  in  order  to  practise  his 
gestures,  hires  a  cheval-glass  before  which  to 
pose  in  court-dress.  This  occupation  leaves 
him  too  busy  and  too  proud  to  welcome  his 
rich  old  friend,  Van  Diemen  Smith,  who  has 
returned  from  Australia  with  his  daughter 
Annette,  in  order  to  settle  in  the  old  country. 
Van  Diemen  Smith  is  an  alias  for  Philip 
Ribstone,  who  had  deserted  from  the  army 
years  before  in  order  to  protect  his  wife's 
honour;  but  this  secret  is  known  only  to 
Tinman,  for  whom  the  Australian  has  a 
sentimental  and  loyal  affection.  His  chival- 
rous good-nature  is  wounded  by  Tinman's 
cool  reception,  but,  after  some  squabbling,  he 
settles  down  in  the  neighbourhood. 

Meantime  Annette  is  courted  by  a  young 
journalist,  Herbert  Fellingham,  whose  satir- 
ical spirit  is  resented  by  the  others.  He 
makes  merciless  fun  of  Tinman's  address,  and 
thereby  ruins  his  chances  of  winning  Annette, 
for  Smith's  simple,  good-nature  is  offended 
by  the  caricaturing  of  his  friend.  The 
differences  between  the  two  men,  however, 
grow  more  pronounced.  Smith  outbids 
Tinman  at  sales,  thwarts  his  public  policy, 
235 


George  Meredith 

and  ventures  even  to  praise  Australia  at  the 
expense  of  England.  The  bailiffs  narrow, 
envious  nature  resents  this  implicit  de- 
preciation of  himself.  "  His  main  grievance 
against  Van  Diemen  was  the  non-recognition 
of  his  importance  by  that  uncultured  Aus- 
tralian, who  did  not  seem  to  be  conscious  of 
the  dignities  and  distinctions  we  come  to  in 
our  country."  In  order  to  gratify  his  wounded 
pride,  he  threatens  to  expose  Smith  to  the 
War  Office  as  a  deserter.  He  thus  has  the 
Australian  in  his  power,  and,  eager  to  secure 
a  hold  upon  his  ducats  and  his  daughter,  he 
meanly  employs  this  lever  to  further  his  suit 
to  Annette,  who  feels  herself  obliged  to 
favour  Tinman's  wooing,  in  order  to  safe- 
guard her  father's  interests.  Fellingham 
begins  to  suspect  the  truth,  from  certain 
hints  dropped  in  conversation,  but  no  out- 
sider's aid  is  needed  ;  Tinman  precipitates  the 
issue  by  his  own  spiteful  temper.  Irritated  at 
the  delay  and  obstinacy  of  Smith  in  the  matter 
of  the  marriage,  he  writes  a  letter  to  the 
Horse  Guards,  giving  information  about 
Smith's  past.  But  the  house  is  destroyed  that 
night  by  a  storm  and  a  high  tide,  and  the 
236 


The  House  on  the  Beach 

letter,  rescued  by  the  maid-servant,  is  opened 
by  Smith,  who  thus  discovers  his  friend's 
treachery.  Fellingham  had  already  told  him 
that  the  threat  was  not  nearly  so  serious  as 
he  feared,  and  the  revelation  merely  proved 
to  him  the  meanness  and  petty  nature  of  his 
quondam  comrade.  Thus  the  house  on  the 
beach  collapses,  and  with  it  the  vulgar  and 
pretentious  authority  claimed  by  Tinman 
over  Grikswich  and  his  friend.  The  end  of 
the  story  is  rather  huddled  up — a  not  un- 
common fault  in  Meredith — but  in  the 
last  paragraph  he  finds  room  to  mention  one 
of  his  leading  ideas,  viz.,  the  wholesome 
effect  of  laughter.* 


*  Compare,  t.g.,  the  "Ode  to  the  Comic  Spirit."  and  "The  Appetw 
ment  of  Demeter." 

237 


GENERAL  OPLE 
AND  LADY  CAMPER 


The  Case  of  General  Ople 
and  Lady  Camper 

'•  AHE  scene  of  this  delicious  little  story, 
-•-  which  appeared  in  "The  New  Quar- 
terly Magazine"  for  July,  1877,  is  laid  on 
the  banks  of  the  Thames,  where  General 
Wilson  Ople,  a  retired  officer,  aged  fifty- 
five,  has  taken  a  small  villa  for  himself  and 
his  young  daughter  Elizabeth.  Next  to  this 
"gentlemanly  residence, "as  the  General  loved 
to  call  it,  stands  Douro  Lodge,  which  is  sub- 
sequently rented  by  an  eccentric,  aristocratic 
widow,  aged  forty-one.  Lady  Camper  is  of 
Welsh  blood,  and,  like  Lady  Eglett  in  "  Lord 
Ormont  and  his  Aminta,"  she  is  one  of  those 
ladies  in  whom  Meredith  delights  to  show 
how  an  active  brain  and  high  spirit  are  com- 
patible with  middle  age.  The  point  of  the 
tale  is  the  relationship  between  this  clever, 
keen  woman  and  the  simple  soldier  at  her 
gates.  The  latter  cherishes  deferential  and 
obsequious  feelings  towards  the  aristocracy^ 
p  241 


George  Meredith 

He  is  also  shy  and  susceptible,  so  far  as  women 
are  concerned,  and  he  is  intensely  sensitive  to 
ridicule.  "Clever  women  alarmed  and  par- 
alysed him.  Their  aptness  to  question  and 
require  immediate  sparkling  answers ;  their 
demand  for  fresh  wit,  of  a  kind  that  is  not 
furnished  by  publications  which  strike  it 
into  heads  with  a  hammer,  and  supply  it 
wholesale  ;  their  various  reading ;  their  power 
of  ridicule  too  ;  made  them  awful  in  his  con- 
templation." The  General  is  becoming  self- 
satisfied,  and  rather  vain,  however.  Egoism 
is  preventing  him,  for  example,  from  realising 
that  his  daughter  and  Mr.  Reginald  Rolles, 
a  nephew  of  Lady  Camper,  have  fallen 
in  love.  Observing  this,  Lady  Camper 
proceeds  to  take  her  inflammable  and 
gallant  neighbour  in  hand,  in  order  to 
weed  him  of  his  selfishness.  Presently 
she  reduces  him,  by  a  mixture  of  haughtiness 
and  friendliness,  to  an  abject  state  of  slavery. 
Her  aim  is  to  rouse  him  to  consideration 
for  his  daughter's  happiness  and  prospects, 
but  the  infatuated  officer,  hoodwinked  by  his 
egoism,  interprets  her  remarks  on  marriage 
as  advances  to  himself.  In  order  to  punish 
242 


General  Ople  and  Lady  Camper 

him,  as  well  as  to  make  a  fresh  attempt  to 
stir  his  fatherly  instincts,  Lady  Camper 
leaves  for  the  Continent,  and  the  poor 
General  is  persecuted  by  a  series  of  merciless 
caricatures  of  himself.  These,  drawn  and 
posted  by  his  witty  neighbour,  drive  the 
sensitive  man  nearly  distracted,  but,  instead 
of  disgusting  him,  they  rather  fascinate  him. 
"It  was  partly  her  whippings  of  him,  partly 
her  penetration  ;  her  ability  that  sat  so  finely 
on  a  wealthy  woman,  her  indifference  to  con- 
ventional manners,  that  so  well  beseemed  a 
nobly-born  one,  and  more  than  all,  her 
correction  of  his  little  weaknesses  and  in- 
competencies,  in  spite  of  his  dislike  of  it,  won 
him."  At  last  she  returns  home  and  ends 
the  General's  torture  by  opening  his  eyes  to 
the  object  of  her  cruel  treatment,  namely,  a 
sense  of  his  duty  to  the  young  people.  By 
working  on  his  fear  of  ridicule,  Lady  Camper 
explains  that  she  has  saved  him  from  a  selfish 
indifference  to  his  daughter's  happiness,  and 
also  from  the  smug,  suburban  existence  of 
his  neighbours,  from  being  reduced  "  to  the 
level  of  the  people  round  about  us  here — 
who  are,  what  ?  Inhabitants  of  gentlemanly 
243 


George  Meredith 

residences,  yes  !  But  what  kind  of  creatures  ? 
They  have  no  mental  standard,  no  moral 
aim,  no  native  chivalry."  The  two  then 
marry.  For  Lady  Camper  relents.  She  has 
not  only  secured  Elizabeth's  happiness  but 
has  found  in  the  General  a  husband  "likely 
ever  to  be  a  fund  of  amusement  for  her 
humour,  good,  irrepressible,  and  above  all, 
very  picturesque."  This  merry,  shrewd  lady 
is  well  mated,  according  to  Meredith's 
philosophy  of  laughter,  with  a  man  who  has 
learned  to  laugh  at  himself  for  his  vain  idea 
of  being  "one  of  our  conquerors." 

This  little  piece  of  social  comedy  is  a  skit 
on  social  ambitions,  like  "The  House  on  the 
Beach,"  but  while  Tinman  wanted  to  be  a 
gentleman,  General  Ople  was  a  gentleman, 
or  at  any  rate  had  the  makings  of  one.  The 
other  motif  of  the  story  is  equally  character- 
istic of  Meredith,  viz.,  the  need  for  putting 
aside  one's  private  ends  in  order  to  further 
the  interests  of  the  next  generation.  The 
General  was  not  a  tyrant ;  he  was  fond  of  his 
daughter  ;  but  he  was  inclined  to  subordinate 
her  interests  to  his  own,  and  to  treat  her 
prospects  as  secondary  to  her  father's,  so 
244 


General  Ople  and  Lady  Camper 

much  so  that  he  became  indifferent  to  her 
reputation  and  happiness.  The  fuller  and 
deeper  bearings  of  this  law  of  unselfishness 
were  developed  later  in  "The  Empty  Purse." 
Lady  Camper  is  one  of  Meredith's  "cruci- 
ble-women." The  story  of  her  dealings  with 
the  General  shows  how,  next  to  his  use  of 
money,  it  is  a  man's  conduct  towards  women 
which  forms  the  surest  test  of  his  character. 


245 


THE  TALE  OF  CHLOE 


The  Tale  of  Ghloe 

rpHIS  short,  tragic  story  was  published 
-*-  in  "The  New  Quarterly  Magazine" 
for  July,  1879.  It  is  described  in  the  sub- 
title as  "An  episode  in  the  history  of 
Beau  Beamish,"  but  it  really  gathers  round 
the  experience  of  two  women  in  the  fashion- 
able and  artificial  society  of  18th  century 
Bath — a  phase  of  life  which  Meredith  had 
already  sketched,  with  inimitable  touches  of 
mock-heroic  comedy,  in  the  twenty-first  and 
twenty-second  chapters  of  "  The  Adventures 
of  Harry  Richmond. " 

Susan  Bailey,  a  rustic  beauty,  had  been 
suddenly  lifted  from  the  dairy  to  ducal  rank 
by  marrying  an  elderly,  and  infatuated, 
peer.  Her  mania  for  pleasure  reduces  the 
Duke  to  his  wits'  end,  and  after  three  years 
he  finds  himself  obliged  to  appeal  to  Beau 
Beamish,  the  suave  autocrat  of  the  local 
society,  to  take  charge  of  the  young  flighty 

249 


George  Meredith 

Duchess  during  a  month's  gaiety  which  she 
had  been  promised  at  the  Wells.  The  Beau 
undertakes  the  responsibility.  He  is  sure 
that  he  can  guarantee  the  girl-wife  a  taste  of 
society  without  letting  her  be  carried  off  her 
feet.  He  assigns  her  the  mocking  incognito 
of  "The  Duchess  of  Dewlap,"  *  and  attaches 
to  her  person,  as  companion,  Miss  Catherine 
Martinsward  (the  "Chloe"  of  the  tale),  a 
gentle,  discreet,  and  noble  lady,  uncorrupted 
by  the  society  of  Bath,  who  had  spent  her 
fortune  to  pay  the  gambling  debts  of  an 
unworthy  lover,  the  handsome  and  spend- 
thrift Sir  Martin  Gaseldy.  Her  love  is 
unrequited,  but  she  has  no  reproaches  for 
him.  With  the  loyalty  of  a  sound,  bright 
nature,  she  lives  in  daily  expectation  of 
seeing  Caseldy  at  Bath,  but  he  treacherously 
refuses  to  reward  her  generosity  and  fulfil 
his  word,  "with  a  blacker  brand  upon  him 
every  morning  that  he  looks  forth  across  his 
property,  and  leaves  her  to  languish."  In 
spite  of  this  ill-treatment,  which  has  now 
lasted  for  seven  years,  she  has  neither  lost 


*  An   allusion   to  this   story   occur*  in  the    second   chapter  of  "The 
Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond." 

250 


The  Tale  of  Chloe 

faith  in  him  nor  dropped  her  sprightly  air 
and  gay  spirits. 

Driving  out  with  the  Beau  to  meet  the 
Duchess,  Chloe  recognises  Caseldy  in  the 
distance  playing  the  cavalier  to  the  new 
arrival.  He  has  returned  to  Bath  at  last, 
but  to  flirt  with  the  Duchess,  not  to  win 
Chloe.  The  tatter's  suspicions  are  aroused, 
and  when  Caseldy  publicly  appears  on  the 
scene,  his  conduct  is  far  from  reassuring 
her,  though  he  lets  it  be  understood  that  he 
is  to  marry  her  when  her  month's  engage- 
ment with  the  Duchess  is  over.  He  and 
the  Duchess  meet  secretly.  Their  mutual 
passion  grows,  whilst  Chloe  has  to  look  on. 
At  every  fresh  evidence  of  her  lover's 
treachery,  she  ties  a  knot  in  a  thick  silken 
skein  which  she  carries  in  one  hand,  but 
without  any  revengeful  feelings  towards 
either  of  the  pair.  "  She  treated  them  both 
with  a  proud  generosity  surpassing  gentleness. 
All  that  there  was  of  selfishness  in  her 
bosom  resolved  to  the  enjoyment  of  her  one 
month  of  strongly  willed  delusion."  For, 
while  she  has  her  own  plan  for  preventing 
mischief  and  saving  her  friend  the  Duchess, 
251 


George  Meredith 

meantime,  with  a  tragic  humility,  she  deter- 
mines to  enjoy  her  month  of  nearness  to 
Caseldy,  even  though  she  sees  through  the 
doubleness  of  his  conduct  towards  herself. 
Gaseldy  hoodwinks  the  Beau.  But  Chloe 
is  not  blind  to  her  lover's  ungenerous  and 
treacherous  behaviour.  At  the  same  time 
she  will  not  remonstrate  with  him,  any 
more  than  with  his  infatuated  companion. 
"  Her  lover,"  she  reflects,  "  would  not  have 
come  to  her  but  for  his  pursuit  of  another 
woman. " 

Presently  matters  are  brought  to  a  head 
by  the  Duchess  and  Caseldy  planning  to 
elope  on  the  following  morning  at  three 
o'clock.  Ghloe,  who  sleeps  in  the  room 
next  to  her  friend,  now  puts  her  plan  in 
execution.  She  hangs  herself  on  the  door 
of  their  sitting-room  by  the  skein  she  had 
knotted,  and  as  the  Duchess  slips  out  she 
encounters  this  tragic  obstacle  to  her  flight. 
The  girl's  shrieks  raise  the  house  and 
neighbourhood,  and  so  the  elopement  is 
effectively  prevented  by  the  despairing 
self-sacrifice  of  Chloe,  that  "most  admirable 
of  women,  whose  heart,"  as  the  Beau  reflect?, 
252 


TheTaleofChloe 

"was  broken  by  a  faithless  man  ere  she 
devoted  her  wreck  of  life  to  arrest  one 
weaker  than  herself  on  the  descent  to 
perdition." 

The  tragic  note  almost  jars  in  this  little 
story ;  self-devotion  seems  carried  to  a 
quixotic  length  in  Chloe's  suicide.  But 
Meredith  does  not  allow  the  sombre  intensity 
which  pervades  the  tale  to  affect  the 
impressions  of  Chloe's  sprightly  womanhood. 
"  She  became  the  comrade  of  men  without 
forfeit  of  her  station  among  sage  sweet 
ladies,  and  was  like  a  well-mannered  spark- 
ling boy,  to  whom  his  admiring  seniors 
have  given  the  lead  in  sallies,  whims,  and 
flights ;  but  pleasanter  than  a  boy,  the  soft 
hues  of  her  sex  toned  her  frolic  spirit." 
These  elements  of  true  womanhood,  together 
with  an  entire  absence  of  sentimentalism, 
make  up  the  attractiveness  of  Ghloe  in 
Meredith's  long  gallery  of  women,  where 
her  position  is  close  to  that  of  Dahlia  Fleming. 


253 


THE  EGOIST 


The  Egoist 

comedy  in  narrative,"  published  in 
1879,  is  the  study  of  a  priggish  baronet 
who  desired  to  run  his  fiancee's  mind  into  the 
mould  of  his  own  and  to  dominate  her  per- 
sonality, as  Sir  Austin  Feverel  wished  to  do 
with  his  son.  But  "The  Egoist  "has  very 
little  action  in  it.  The  period  of  the  comedy 
only  lasts  for  a  few  weeks,  and  the  vital 
interest  of  its  pages  lies  not  in  what  happens 
so  much  as  in  the  desperately  clever  analysis 
of  the  motives  which  set  the  main  characters 
in  play.  "  Like  Shakespere,"  Henley  wrote, 
"  Meredith  is  a  man  of  genius,  who  is  a  clever 
man  as  well ;  and  he  seems  to  prefer  his 
cleverness  to  his  genius."  This  preference  is 
visible  in  the  psychological  calculus  of 
motives  which  fills  the  latter  half  of  "The 
Egoist,"  in  the  self-consciousness  of  the  artist, 
and  in  the  laboured  efforts  to  produce  certain 
effects ;  all  of  which  tend  to  complicate  the 
Q  257 


George  Meredith 

reader's  attitude  to  the  story.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  an  outline  of  the  facts  underlying  this 
novel  has  perforce  to  be  meagre.  Fortu- 
nately, it  is  less  necessary  than  in  the  case 
of  any  of  the  other  Meredith-romances. 

"He,  they  say,  who  is  not  handsome  by 
Twenty,  strong  by  Thirty,  wise  by  Forty,  rich 
by  Fifty,  will  never  be  either  handsome, 
strong,  wise,  or  rich."  The  hero  of  Meredith's 
novel  improved  upon  Richardson's  pro- 
gramme of  the  ideal  life.  He  was  rich  at 
twenty  as  well  as  handsome,  and  strong 
before  he  was  thirty.  Whether  he  was  ever 
wise,  and,  if  so,  what  was  the  value  of  his 
wisdom,  is  the  problem  set  by  the  novelist  to 
his  readers. 

Sir  Willoughby  Patterne,  of  Patterne  Hall, 
is  a  young  and  wealthy  aristocrat,  who  grows 
up  in  an  atmosphere  of  feminine  adulation. 
He  cultivates  his  mind  in  a  way,  however; 
toys  with  science  in  a  laboratory,  but  directs 
"  his  admirable  passion  to  excel  upon  sport ; 
and  so  great  was  the  passion  in  him  that  it 
was  commonly  the  presence  of  rivals  which 
led  him  to  the  declaration  of  love."  This 
jealousy  of  being  outdone  is  responsible  for 
258 


The  Egoist 

his  engagement  at  the  age  of  twenty-one  to 
Miss  Gonstantia  Durham,  who  "had  money, 
and  health  and  beauty  ;  three  mighty  qualifi- 
cations for  a  Patterne  bride. "  *  Sir  Willoughby 
is  one  of  several  in  pursuit  of  her.  Like  Mrs. 
Millamant  in  "The  Way  of  the  World"— one 
of  Meredith's  favourite  comedies — "She  had 
the  glory  of  the  racing  cutter  full  sail  on  a 
winning  breeze,"  and  the  danger  of  being 
outsailed  by  a  rival  induces  the  baronet  to 
propose  to  her,  although  his  sentimental 
conceit  causes  him  a  pang  of  regret  that  she 
has  not  come  to  him  "out  of  cloistral  purity," 
instead  of  having  been  admired  and  courted  by 
his  bugbear  "the  World."  Miss  Durham 
discovers  his  stupendous  egotism  in  time. 
Ten  days  before  the  marriage,  she  sails  away 
with  Captain  Harry  Oxford,  and  Sir 
Willoughby  is  forced  to  save  his  face  by  a 
mild,  condescending  courtship  of  Miss  Leetitia 
Dale,t  a  female  adorer  at  his  gates,  who  is  the 
portionless,  poetic  daughter  of  a  retired  and 
invalid  Anglo-Indian  surgeon.  "She  was 

*  Sir  Austin  Feverel'B  list  of  names  of  possible  brides  for  Richard  was 
marked  "  M.  or  Po.  or  Pr."  (money,  position,  principles). 

t  He  pretends  that  Constantia  was  his  mother's  choice,  and  that  she 
had  been  madly  jealous  of  his  true  love,  Laetitia ! 

259 


George  Meredith 

pretty,  her  eyelashes  were  long  and  dark,  her 
eyes  dark  blue,  and  her  soul  was  ready  to 
shoot  like  a  rocket  out  of  them  at  a  look  from 
Willoughby."  He  could  count  upon  her  as  a 
satellite,  whoever  failed. 

The  baronet  then  disappears  on  a  tour  round 
the  world,  "  holding  an  English  review  of  his 
Maker's  grotesques."  He  returns  after  three 
years  to  look  out  for  a  more  brilliant  bride 
than  the  patient  Laetitia.  This  time  it  is 
Clara,  the  daughter  of  Rev.  Dr.  Middleton, 
a  stout  clerical  scholar,  who  is  a  bon  vivant, 
like  the  Dr.  Gaster  and  Dr.  Portpipe  of 
Peacock's  world.*  The  girl  is  eighteen — the 
same  age  as  Aminta,  when  Lord  Ormont 
wooed  and  married  her — and  she  also  has 
"money  and  health  and  beauty,  the  triune 
of  perfect  starriness,  which  makes  all  men 
astronomers."  Sir  Willoughby  woos  her  hotly 
and  carries  her  off  from  the  rivals  who 
surrounded  him.  Clara  is  too  inexperienced 
to  fathom  his  real  character.  She  is  not  so  much 


*  Peacock  made  partial  amends  for  these  in  Dr.  Opimian  or  in  Dr. 
Folliott,  who  is  nearer  to  Dr.  Middleton  than  the  Casaubon  of  "  Middle- 
march."  Dr.  Middleton  is  at  least  warm-blooded.  He  would  have 
agreed  with  Prince  Seithenyn  in  Peacock's  tale.  "  wine  it  my  medicine, 
and  my  quantity  u  a  little  more." 

260 


The  Egoist 

in  love  with  him  as  in  love  with  love,  and  it 
is  this  false  step,  this  mistaken  engagement, 
which  gives  rise  to  the  situation  of  the  story. 
The  action  of  the  story,  from  the  seventh 
chapter  onwards,  takes  place  at  Patterne 
Hall  where  Dr.  Middleton  and  his  daughter 
have  been  invited  to  stay  for  a  month  with 
Willoughby's  aunts,  the  Ladies  Eleanor  and 
Isabel.  Special  attractions  are  held  out  for 
the  Doctor  in  the  shape  of  a  wine-cellar,  a 
library,  and  the  company  of  Vernon  Whitford, 
Willoughby's  cousin  and  secretary.  Clara  is 
already  beginning  to  criticise  her  lover's  pre- 
occupation with  himself  and  to  ponder 
whether  she  cannot  retrieve  the  mistake  of 
her  engagement.  She  chafes  at  the  lordly 
selfishness  even  of  his  generosity,  wondering 
whether  an  escape  is  not  yet  possible  with 
honour  from  a  marriage  which  she  has  come 
to  anticipate  as  the  state  "of  a  woman  tied 
not  to  a  man  of  heart,  but  to  an  obelisk 
lettered  all  over  with  hieroglyphics,  and 
everlastingly  hearing  him  expound  them, 
relishingly  renewing  his  lectures  on  them."* 

*  In  ch.x  SirWilloughby  actually  supplier  his  own  title,  to  Clara's 
amazement.  He  gravely  warns  her  against  marrying  an  egoist  I  This  is 
•  spurt  of  Meredith's  fun. 

261 


George  Meredith 

Besides  the  sense  of  honour,  however,  Clara 
is  fettered  by  a  feeling  of  cowardice  or 
impotence  (see  ch.  xxv).  She  has  no  Harry 
Oxford  to  carry  her  off,  for  although  Vernon 
Whitford  and  she  have  begun  to  admire  each 
other,  he  is  too  loyal  to  make  any  move.  He 
reads  her,  and  she  knows  it,  but  his  stedfast- 
ness  of  honour  and  his  humility  keep  him  from 
any  intrigue. 

Poor  Sir  Willoughby  is  blissfully  uncon- 
scious of  all  that  is  passing  in  her  heart. 
"The  love-season  is  the  carnival  of  egoism," 
and  the  fatuous  baronet  imagines  that  Clara 
shares  the  blind  devotion  to  himself  which 
inspires  his  aunts  and  Lnstitia  Dale.*  His 
treatment  of  his  dependents  and  his  conversa- 
tion, revolving  round  the  "I"  of  his  worshipful 
and  weariful  personality,  become  more  and 
more  intolerable  to  his  betrothed.  Her  first 
attempt  to  win  liberty  leads  her  to  suggest 
that  Lastitia  would  make  a  better  wife  for 
him,  but  he  perversely  sets  this  down  to 
feminine  jealousy,  and  actually  invites  her 


"  "  With  ladies  his  aim  was  the  Galilean  courtier  of  any  period  from 
Loots  Treize  to  Lorn*  Qoinze.  He  could  dote  on  those  who  led  him  to 
talk  in  that  character — backed  by  English  solidity,  you  understand." 

262 


The  Egoist 

assistance  to  marry  off  Lcctitia  to  Vernon. 
Clara  confides  in  Vernon,  from  whom  she 
receives  sensible,  dispassionate  advice,  and 
also  in  Laetitia,  who  is  amazed  and  horrified 
that  any  woman  should  propose  to  break  with 
Sir  Willoughby.  On  both  sides  she  is  foiled. 
Meantime,  Colonel  Horace  de  Craye 
arrives.  He  is  to  be  the  best  man  at  the 
marriage.  Like  Clara,  he  has  Irish  blood  in 
his  veins,  and  the  pair  of  them  strike  up  a 
merry  friendship.  De  Craye  detects  the 
chasm  between  the  lovers,  and  his  budding 
hopes  of  carrying  off  Clara  rouse  Sir 
Willoughby's  temper.  "  Remember,"  says 
Meredith,  "the  poets  upon  Jealousy.  It  is 
to  be  haunted  in  the  heaven  of  two  by  a 
Third."  Willoughby  is  now  beginning  to  be 
angry  and  seriously  alarmed  at  the  state  of 
matters,  while  Clara,  unable  to  persuade  her 
father  to  leave  the  cellar  and  comforts  of 
Patterne  Hall,  and  too  shrewd  to  rely  on  De 
Craye,  determines  to  depart  secretly.  A 
series  of  accidents,  however,  forces  her  to 
return  from  the  railway  station,  in  the  com- 
pany of  Colonel  De  Craye  who  has  suspected 
her  design.  Sir  Willoughby's  wrath  is 
263 


George  Meredith 

kindled  at  her  deception  and  at  her  confidence 
in  the  Colonel ;  besides,  the  rumour  of  Clara's 
attempted  flight  has  got  abroad  in  the  county, 
and  he  has  now  to  face  the  terror  of  being 
twice  jilted.  His  reputation  is  in  jeopardy. 
He  philanders  once  more  with  Laetitia,  in 
order  to  have  her  in  reserve,  should  the  worst 
come  to  the  worst,  while  Clara  confides  in 
Mrs.  Mountstuart  Jenkinson,  the  witty  lady 
of  the  district.  Sir  Willoughby  feels  he  has 
been  betrayed,  and  his  injured  pride  is  up  in 
arms.  The  policy  he  sketches  for  himself  is 
to  prevent  De  Craye  at  any  cost  from  marry- 
ing Clara.  He  proposes  to  pair  off  Vernon  and 
Miss  Middleton  and  to  marry  Laetitia  him- 
self, so  as  to  be  able  to  say  that  he  generously 
handed  over  Clara  to  his  cousin  and  secretary, 
"  who  opened  his  mouth  and  shut  his  eyes," 
while  he  himself  remained  true  to  "  the  lady 
of  his  first  and  strongest  affections."  Poor 
gentleman !  He  reckons  confidently  upon 
Lcctitia,  who  was  always  at  his  beck  and  call ; 
but,  to  his  horror,  she  refuses  the  offer  of  his 
hand.  To  be  pitied  by  her  is  bad  ;  to  be 
rejected  by  her  is  fearful !  In  terror  of  being 
left  brideless,  and  exposed  to  the  jeers  of  a 

264 


The  Egoist 

world  which  he  affected  to  despise,  he  puts 
fresh  pressure  on  Clara,  who  hears  indirectly 
of  his  secret  proposal  to  Leetitia  and  taxes  him 
roundly  with  a  breach  of  faith  which  condones 
her  refusal  to  abide  by  the  engagement.  Sir 
Willoughby,  driven  to  his  wits'  end,  pretends 
he  has  been  proposing  to  Lictitia  on  Vernon's 
behalf,  and  meantime  makes  a  last  desperate 
effort  to  save  his  vanity  from  the  gossip 
and  ridicule  of  the  county.*  Vernon  and 
Clara  own  tentatively  and  tenderly  to  one 
another  the  love  which  has  been  ripening 
slowly  out  of  their  friendship.  But  Sir 
Willoughby  has  to  rave  in  a  persistent  and 
unmanly  fashion,  employing  all  manner  of 
artifices  and  arguments,  before  he  can  induce 
the  disillusioned  Laetitia  to  accept  his  hand. 
She  tells  him  and  his  aunts  frankly  that  she 
will  try  to  respect  him,  but  that  she  cannot 
venerate  him,  much  less  love  a  "gentleman 
nurtured  in  idolatry."  Sir  Willoughby,  how- 
ever, is  only  too  glad  to  take  her  on  these  terms, 
and  the  curtain  falls  upon  Vernon  and  Clara  to- 
gether as  the  true  lovers,  while  the  poor  Egoist 
is  mated  to  a  woman  who  heartily  despises  him. 

*  Compare  Alvan'i  horror  at  the  thought  of  being  jilted,  in  "  The  Tragic 
(ch.  xiv). 

265 


George  Meredith 

Both  Laetitia*  and  Clara  avow  themselves 
to  be  egoists,  but  neither  deserves  the  title  in 
the  sense  in  which  Sir  Willoughby  earns  it. 
Meredith  indeed  never  drew  a  female  Egoist. 
Religion  and  love  are  the  two  phases  of 
experience  where  a  human  being  is  most  apt 
to  be  engrossed  with  himself.  "  A  man,"  says 
Tolstoy  in  "The  Cossacks,"  "is  never  so 
much  an  egotist  as  at  the  moment  when  his 
whole  being  is  stirred  with  spiritual  exaltation. 
It  seems  to  him  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
world  more  beautiful,  more  interesting,  than 
himself  at  such  a  moment."  But  Meredith 
eschews  this  line  of  analysis.  Only  in  ' '  Queen 
Theodolinda"  and  in  one  or  two  casual 
allusions  does  he  touch  upon  the  danger  of 
self-engrossment  in  the  sphere  of  personal 
religion.  Love,  on  the  other  hand,  furnishes 
him  with  rich  material  for  the  study  of 
egoism,  and,  as  the  male  has  usually  more 
initiative  and  scope  in  love  than  the  woman, 
this  is  probably  one  reason  why  SirWilloughby 
remains  without  any  female  counterpart  in  his 

*  Lily  Dale,  the  lilted  heroine  whose  woes  had  moved  the  readers  of 
"The  Small  House  at  Allington."  fifteen  years  before,  is  not  given  the 
-hance  of  action  at  the  close  which  Meredith  confers  on  Ltetitia  Dale,  and 
in  any  case  she  is  as  water  nnto  wine  compared  with  the  later  Miss  Dale. 

266 


The  Egoist 

gallery  of  portraits.  The  baronet  is  a  blend  of 
pride  and  sentimentalism.  The  lover  as  sen- 
timentalist had  been  already  drawn  at  full 
length  in  Wilfrid  Pole,  as  well  as  in  his 
sister  Cornelia  and  her  lover.  But  Sir 
Willoughby  answers  to  Peacock's  definition 
of  "Sentiment,"  in  his  pessimistic  essay  upon 
"The  Four  Ages  of  Poetry,"  as  "canting 
egotism  in  the  mask  of  refined  feeling,"  and 
Meredith  has  treated  him  with  the  severity 
and  sparkle  of  the  true  Comic  Spirit.  He  is 
not  drawn  with  satirical  irony.  The  author 
plays  with  him,  draws  him  out  in  his  strong 
points  as  well  as  in  his  foibles,  and  punishes 
him  with  such  dexterity  as  almost  to  blind 
the  reader  to  his  sorry  fate.  Hardly  anyone 
who  reads  the  book  for  the  first  time  fails  to 
wish  that  Sir  Willoughby  had  not  succeeded 
in  protecting  himself  against  the  gossip  of  the 
county.  He  seems  to  get  off  too  easily.  We 
wish  Laetitia  had  held  her  ground.  But  when 
one  reflects  that  he  has  to  marry  a  woman  * 


*  It  ii  part  of  Meredith's  triumph  not  only  to  have  depicted  Leetitia  and 
Clara  as  loyal  to  one  another,  in  spite  of  their  relation s  to  Sir  Willoughby. 
but  to  have  drawn  Laetitia  without  awakening  a  suspicion  of  ridicule.  The 
woman,  whose  love  has  been  trifled  with,  remains  •  dignified  figure  ;  she 
never  descends  to  be  spiteful  or  resentful. 

267 


George  Meredith 

who  has  seen  through  him,  a  former  adorer 
who  has  turned  critic  and  judge,  and  that — 
instead  of  tossing  his  glove  for  her  to  pick  up 
humbly — he  has  had  to  woo  her  in  sheer 
desperation,  then  one  begins  to  understand 
the  deadly  significance  of  the  last  sentence  in 
the  book.  Stevenson  wrote  of  it :  "  here  is  a 
Nathan  for  the  modern  David  ;  here  is  a 
book  to  send  the  blood  into  men's  faces  .  .  . 
It  is  yourself  that  is  hunted  down  ;  these  are 
your  faults  that  are  dragged  into  the  day,  and 
numbered,  with  lingering  relish,  with  cruel 
cunning  and  precision.  A  young  friend  of 
Mr.  Meredith's  (as  I  have  heard  the  story) 
came  to  him  in  an  agony.  'This  is  too  bad  of 
you,' he  cried.  '  Willoughby  is  me.'  'No, 
my  dear  fellow,'  said  the  author;  'he  is  all  of 
us.'  I  have  read  'The  Egoist'  five  or  six 
times  myself,  and  I  mean  to  read  it  again ;  for 
I  am  like  the  young  friend  of  the  anecdote — I 
think  Willoughby  an  unmanly  but  a  very 
serviceable  exposure  of  myself." 

To  Leetitia  Meredith  is  more  tender  than  to 
almost  any  other  of  his  prominent  feminine 
characters,  for  Dorothy  Beltham  is  always  in 
the  shade,  like  Clare  Doria  Forey.  If  she  is 

268 


The  Egoist 

the  victim  of  the  Egoist's  callousness,*  she 
gets  her  revenge  heaped  up  and  brimming 
over  in  the  end.  Clara,  the  "dainty  rogue 
in  porcelain,"  has  neither  the  wit  nor  the 
courage  of  her  sisters  in  the  front  rank  of 
Meredith's  heroines — Aminta  Farrell  or 
rather  Glotilde  is  perhaps  nearest  to  her  in 
general  character — but  she  has  more  charm 
and  warmth  than  some  of  them,  just  because 
she  is  cast  upon  a  less  heroic  scale. 

The  minor  characters  of  the  book  need 
little  or  no  comment.  In  "Mansfield  Park" 
the  daughter  of  a  marine  is  adopted  by  her 
aristocratic  relatives,  but  in  "The  Egoist  "  it 
is  a  boy — Crossjay — one  of  the  most  natural 
and  delightful  lads  in  all  the  novels.  Every 
line  about  Crossjay  tells.  "It  was  a  good 
month  before  he  could  see  pudding  taken 
away  from  table  without  a  sigh  of  regret  that 
he  could  not  finish  it  as  deputy  for  the  Devon- 
port  household.  .  .  .  He  was  not  only 
indolent,  he  was  opposed  to  the  acquisition 
of  knowledge  through  the  medium  of  books, 

*  "  Men  who  are  Egoists  have  good  women  for  their  victims ;  women  on 
whose  devoted  constancy  they  feed:  they  drink  it  like  blood."  ThU 
remark  of  Clara  helps  to  open  Laetitia's  eyes.  It  shows  that  Thackeray's 
Arthur  Pendennis  was  not  quite  an  Egoist  of  the  Meredithian  type. 

269 


George  Meredith 

and  would  say :  '  But  I  don't  want  to  ! '  in  a 
tone  to  make  a  logician  thoughtful."  Some 
traits  in  the  character  of  Vernon  Whitford, 
"a  Phoebus  Apollo  turned  friar,"  are  supposed 
to  have  been  drawn  from  Sir  Leslie  Stephen, 
but  he  is  of  the  same  fibre  as  Redworth,  and 
Dr.  Middleton's  indifference  to  his  daughter's 
matrimonial  difficulties  is  a  replica  of  General 
Ople's  attitude  towards  Elizabeth.  The 
admission  in  the  prelude  that  Egoism  has  a 
sober  and  serviceable  and  valiant  phase  in  the 
upbuilding  of  social  and  national  tenacity,  is 
a  brief  echo  of  what  Meredith  had  already 
explained  in  the  second  chapter  of  "  Beau- 
champ's  Career." 

The  novel  is  stronger  in  dialogue  and 
analysis  than  in  epigrams.  Meredith  has  put 
some  of  his  most  original  work  into  the  vivid 
descriptive  passages  which  occur  in  the 
accounts  of  " the  aged  and  great  wine"  (ch. 
xx) — an  admirable  mock-heroic  study — ,  the 
rain-storm  (ch.  xxvi),  the  conversation  at 
lunch  (ch.  xxxvi),  and,  on  a  smaller  scale, 
Clara's  beauty  (in  chapters  v  and  ix  and 
xviii).  The  brilliant  prelude,  with  its  sough 
of  Carlyle,  is  spoiled  by  the  dreadful 

270 


The  Egoist 

Meredithese  which  recurs  here  and  there 
throughout  the  later  chapters,  but  it  is  a  fitting 
pendant  to  "The  Essay  on  Comedy,"  and 
serves  as  an  introduction  to  more  than  one  of 
the  major  novels.  An  equally  characteristic 
passage  occurs  at  the  end  of  ch.  xxxvi,  where, 
after  the  conversation  at  lunch,  Lady  Gulmer 
admits  to  Sir  Willoughby,  "Though  what  it 
all  meant,  and  what  was  the  drift  of  it,  I 
couldn't  tell  to  save  my  life.  Is  it  every  day 
the  same  with  you  here?"  "Very  much." 
"  How  you  must  enjoy  a  spell  of  dulness ! " 
This  is  a  remark  which  comes  home  to  the 
reader  of  some  conversations  in  the  next  four 
novels.  The  dialogue  flashes  with  crisp 
repartee  and  brilliant  epigram,  but  now  and 
then  we  do  get  the  contortions  of  the  Sibyl 
without  her  inspiration — partly  owing  to  the 
fact  that  "The  Egoist, "  especially  in  its  latter 
half,  is  a  study  of  misconceptions  and  cross- 
purposes.  The  treatment  suits  the  subject, 
though  the  Comic  Spirit  has  been  infected 
with  the  affectation  and  trickery  of  its  prey. 
There  are  deep  things  in  the  book,  but  here 
as  in  some  of  the  ballads  and  larger  poems 
you  have  not  only  to  dive  far  down  but  to 
271 


George  Meredith 

wriggle  through  a  mass  of  waving  tangle  under 
which  the  treasure  has  been  hidden.  Mere- 
dith here,  even  more  than  elsewhere, 
"delights  in  elaborate  analysis  of  abstruse 
problems,  whose  solutions  when  reached  are 
scarcely  less  difficult  to  ordinary  apprehension 
than  are  the  problems  themselves  ;  discrim- 
inating countless  shades  where  the  common 
eye  sees  but  one  gloom  or  glare ;  pursuing 
countless  distinct  movements  where  the 
common  eye  sees  only  a  whirling  perplexity." 
These  words  of  James  Thomson  state  the 
impression  of  Meredith's  art  with  great 
precision,  as  it  is  revealed  in  "The  Egoist." 
The  development  of  the  relations  between 
Vernon  and  Clara,  for  example,  is  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  author's  subtle  diagnosis  which  is 
less  poignant  than  his  dissection  of  Cecilia's 
feelings  toward  Beauchamp  but  which  was 
hardly  bettered  till  he  came  to  weigh  the 
quivering,  netted  soul  of  Nataly  Radnor. 
The  essence  of  the  art,  however,  does  not  lie 
in  the  fact  that  the  author  enters  into  the 
inner  feelings  of  the  characters,  instead  of 
describing  them  from  the  standpoint  of  an 
outsider.  That  would  simply  be  dramatic 
272 


The  Egoist 

skill.  What  he  does  is  to  analyse  motives  of 
which  often  the  actors,  no  less  than  the  on- 
lookers, are  almost  unconscious.  It  is  this 
feature  which  is  responsible  for  the  delicacy 
as  well  as  for  the  persistent  unreality  felt  by 
the  reader  of  the  novels,  and  which  has 
helped  to  make  the  latter  half  of  "The 
Egoist "  caviare  to  the  general. 


273 


THE  TRAGIC  COMEDIANS 


The  Tragic  Comedians 

HpHE  sub-title  of  this  novel  is  "a  study  in 
-••  a  well-known  story,"  i.e.,  the  tragic 
story  of  the  final  love-affair  in  the  life  of 
Ferdinand  Lassalle,  a  brilliant  young  Jewish 
Hungarian,  the  leader  of  the  German 
Republican  Socialists,  who  died,  after  a 
meteoric  career,  on  August  31st,  1864,  from 
the  effects  of  a  duel.  Sixteen  years  later 
Meredith's  book  appeared.  It  sits  close  to 
the  facts  of  the  story.  Nothing  in  it  is 
invented,  "because  an  addition  of  fictitious 
incidents  could  never  tell  us  how  she  came  to 
do  this,  he  to  do  that ;  or  how  the  comic  in 
their  natures  led  by  interplay  to  the  tragic 
issue."  The  novel  is  an  actual  transcript  of 
"the  bare  railway  line  of  their  story,"  and 
though  it  is  set  out  with  all  the  intellectual 
power  and  ethical  insight  which  the  writer's 
genius  has  at  its  command,  this  fidelity  has 
handicapped  the  movement  of  his  imagina- 

277 


George  Meredith 

don.  One  advantage  of  it,  however,  is  that 
the  reader  needs  to  know  *  nothing  but  the 
correspondence  of  the  names.  These  are  as 
follows : 

Ferdinand  Lassalle        Sigismund  Alvan 
Helene  von  Donniges     Clotilde  von  Rttdiger 
Yanko  von  Racowitza    Prince  Marko 

Romaris 

Baron  Korff  Count  Kollin 

Countess  von  Hatzfeldt  Lucie,  Baroness  von 

Crefeldt 

Rustow  Tresten 

Dr.  Haenle  Dr.  Stdrchel 

Clotilde,  a  young  German  beauty,  has  had 
two  love-affairs  before  she  meets  with  Alvan. 
Her  first  lover,  Count  Constantine,  was  flung 
over  for  the  dashing  young  Prince  Marko 
Romaris.  But  even  the  latter  failed  to  satisfy 
her  heart  Her  sentimental  dream  was  not 
of  an  adoring  pliant  fiance  but,  like  Margarita 
in  "Farina,"  she  expected  a  Siegfried  who 
would  dominate  her  by  sheer  superiority  and 
force  of  character.  For  Clotilde,  as  Meredith 


*  To  the  third  edition,  revised  by  the  author  tod  published  by  Messrs. 
Ward,  Lock,  Bowden,  and  Co.,  in  1892,  Mr.  Clement  Shorter  prefixed 
an  adequate  statement  of  the  historical  basis  underlying  the  novel. 

278 


The  Tragic  Comedians 

draws  her,  is  one  of  the  revolutionary  aristo- 
crats. Her  parents  and  circle  belong  to  the 
class  of  established  conservatives  ;  her  father 
is  a  gouty  old  Bavarian  diplomatist,  her 
mother  a  faded  beauty  of  Society,  but  she 
herself  is  a  vivid  aspiring  young  woman  whose 
ideal  of  manhood  is  higher  than  any  men 
known  to  her.  She  dreams  of  some  eagle, 
some  predestined  mate.  Only,  "the  man 
must  be  a  gentleman.  Poets,  princes,  war- 
riors, potentates,  marched  before  her 
speculative  fancy  unselected."* 

It  is  in  this  receptive  mood  that  she  first  hears 
of  Alvan,  when  she  is  nineteen  and  he  is 
thirty-nine.  She  is  told  that  she  resembles 
Alvan  in  her  talk,  but  that  Alvan  is  no 
gentleman,  only  a  diabolically  clever  Jew  and 
a  notorious  demagogue,  who  by  birth  and 
position  is  utterly  antagonistic  to  all  her 
inherited  instincts.  The  girl's  curiosity  is 
whetted.  The  two  meet  at  a  party  in  Berlin, 
and  at  once  fall  in  love  with  each  other. 


*  Compare  the  similar  dream  of  the  sentimental  Cornelia  Pole  in 
"  Sandra  Belloni  "  (ch.  i),  whose  "  heart  of  hearts  demanded  for  her  as 
spouse,  a  lord,  a  philosopher,  and  a  Christian,  in  one ;  and  he  must  be  a 
Member  of  Parliament.  Hence  her  isolated  air."  Both  women  found 
the  issue  of  their  love-episodes  to  be  tragic. 

279 


George  Meredith 

The  infatuation  is  sudden  and  complete  on 
both  sides.  For  he  too  confesses  he  had 
heard  of  her  as  "  a  gold-crested  serpent,"  just 
when  he  was  in  lack  of  a  comrade.  "  I 
wanted  my  comrade  young  and  fair,  necess- 
arily of  your  sex,  but  with  heart  and  brain  : 
an  insane  request,  I  fancied,  until  I  heard  that 
you  were  the  person  I  wanted."  Their 
common  anticipations  and  aspirations  burst 
through  all  conventions  at  this  interview. 
Alvan  escorts  her  home  and  prepares  to  sur- 
mount the  social  barriers  that  lie  between 
him  and  her  family.  The  girl's  heart  fails  her 
for  a  moment  at  the  thought  of  her  relatives' 
horror  over  Al van's  "  hissing  reputation — for 
it  was  a  reputation  that  stirred  the  snakes  and 
the  geese  of  the  world."  But  his  overwhelm- 
ing passion  carries  her  away.  The  two  go 
through  "a  demi-ceremony  of  betrothal." 
Then  Clotilde  is  ordered  to  Switzerland  for 
her  health,  whither  Alvan  also  retires  after  a 
successful  political  campaign.  The  two  meet 
once  more,  this  time  at  Berne,  and  the 
struggle  begins  between  Glotilde's  bourgeois 
prejudices  and  conventional  instincts  on  the 
one  side  and  on  the  other  the  passion  kindled 
280 


The  Tragic  Comedians 

in  her  by  Al van's  hot  wooing.*  The  latter 
urges  an  immediate  elopement.  But  Clotilde 
hesitates  to  cast  the  die  for  love,  although  he 
removes  one  obstacle,  viz.,  the  prejudice 
excited  by  his  previous  connexion  with  an 
older  married  woman,  the  Baroness  von 
Grefeldt,  whose  cause  he  had  chivalrously 
championed,  though  at  the  cost  of  stirring 
considerable  scandal  round  his  own  name. 
The  two  at  last  part  on  the  understanding 
that  Alvan  is  to  see  her  parents  formally  next 
day  at  Geneva.  But  the  crisis  comes  other- 
wise. Clotilde,  on  breaking  the  news  to  her 
family,  is  appalled  at  their  brutal  wrath  and 
the  curses  heaped  upon  her  lover  ;  she  flies 
to  throw  herself  upon  his  protection,  and  is 
now  prepared  to  do  what  he  had  urged  some 
days  before.  The  girl's  passion  has  risen  over 
the  barriers  of  social  convention  ;  she  is  ready 
and  eager  to  elope.  Unluckily  Alvan 
hesitates.  Too  sure  of  his  ability  to  overcome 
her  parents'  opposition,  driven  by  a  certain 
pride  to  the  resolve  that  he  would  have  no 

*  With  Al  van's  inability  to  understand  women  ("  women  for  him  were 
objects  to  be  chased,  the  politician's  relaxation,"  cli.  vii)  compare  the 
similarly  tragic  misunderstanding  of  woman's  character  cherished  by  Carlo 
Ammiani  in  "  Vittoria  "  (ch.  xli). 

281 


George  Meredith 

run-away  bride,  and  also  fearing  to  hurt  the 
socialist  cause  by  any  scandal,  he  dissuades 
Glotilde  from  her  proposal  and  hands  her 
back  to  her  family,  bidding  her  leave  the  rest 
of  the  fighting  to  himself.  His  mistimed 
prudence  and  mixture  of  conceit  and  chivalry 
are  his  undoing.  To  the  stunned  girl  it  seems 
as  if  he  had  tossed  her  off  and  rejected  her 
self-sacrifice.  Abandoned  by  her  lover  she 
finds  herself  exposed  to  furious  pressure  from 
her  scandalised  relatives  and  at  last  she 
submits  to  their  entreaties. 

Meanwhile  Al  van  plots  and  chafes  within  the 
false  position  into  which  his  pride  had  flung 
him.  "Ceasing  to  be  a  social  rebel,  he 
conceived  himself  as  a  recognised  dignitary, 
and  he  passed  under  the  bondage  of  that 
position."  Now  he  sees,  too  late,  that  he  had 
cringed  to  the  world  instead  of,  as  usual,  defy- 
ing it,  when  he  resolved  to  let  Clotilde  go. 
The  latter  is  removed  from  the  town,  out  of 
reach  of  Alvan's  machinations.  His  letters 
never  reach  her.  Even  his  envoys,  distrust- 
ful of  their  leader's  alliance  with  a  daughter 
of  Society,  mislead  Glotilde,  who  finally  is 
forced  to  write  and  sign  a  letter  to  Alvan 

282 


The  Tragic  Comedians 

closing  their  connexion  by  announcing  her 
engagement  to  Prince  Marko.  Thus  her 
family's  diplomacy  triumphs,  the  more  so  that 
it  is  abetted  secretly  by  Alvan's  friends  who 
disapprove  of  their  leader's  marriage.  Glotilde 
believes  she  is  deserted  by  Alvan  for  his 
former  flame,  the  Baroness,  while  he  in  a  fury 
of  rage  believes  that  Glotilde  has  perjured 
herself.  Driven  desperate,  she  declines,  to 
Alvan's  treacherous  envoy,  a  final  interview 
with  Alvan  himself.  The  latter,  provoked 
beyond  control,  challenges  her  father  to  a 
duel.  Prince  Marko  undertakes  the  challenge, 
and — to  the  surprise  of  all,  and  the  bitter  dis- 
appointment of  Glotilde,  who  secretly  hopes 
for  another  issue — Alvan  falls.  Three  days 
later  he  is  dead.  Glotilde  then  marries 
Marko,  who  dies  a  few  months  afterwards. 
"From  that  day,  or  it  may  be,  on  her 
marriage  day,  her  heart  was  Alvan's." 

Though  the  frame-work  of  the  story  is 
borrowed,  Meredith  has  enriched  ft  with 
some  of  his  most  brilliant  and  original  aphor- 
isms. "Barriers  are  for  those  who  cannot 
fly."  "Try  to  think  individually  upon  what 
you  have  to  learn  collectively— that  is  your 
283 


George  Meredith 

task."  "  It  is  the  soul  that  does  things  in  thi 
life — the  rest  is  vapour."  "The  choicest 
women  are  those  who  yield  not  a  feather  of 
their  womanliness  for  some  amount  of  man- 
like strength."  "Harness  is  harness,  and  a 
light  yoke-fellow  can  make  a  proud  career 
deviate."  The  wine-chapter  or  rapture,  which 
Meredith  must  have  in  almost  every  one  of 
his  novels,  occurs  in  ch.  iv.  Apart  from  this, 
the  most  prominent  passages  in  the  book  are 
the  allusions  to  Hamlet  (ch.  iii — iv),  the  glow- 
ing defence  of  light  literature  in  ch.  vi  (while 
in  the  following  chapter  we  seem  to  hear 
Meredith  himself  speaking  through  the 
words — "My  pen  is  my  fountain — the  key  of 
me  ;  and  I  give  myself,  I  do  not  sell.  I  write 
when  I  have  matter  in  me  and  in  the  direction 
it  presses  for,  otherwise  not  a  word"),  the 
sketch  of  Bismarck  in  ch.  vii,  the  outburst 
against  Horace  (the  piper  of  the  bourgeois  in 
soul")  in  ch.  xiv,  and  the  vindication  of 
idealism  (in  ch.  xv,  as  already  in  chs.  xv — xvi 
of  "Vittoria"). 

There  are  three  ominous  hints  of  the  coming 
tragedy  thrown  out  as  the  novel  proceeds. 
One  is  the  title  of  "Indian  Bacchus"  applied 
284 


The  Tragic  Comedians 

to  Prince  Marko,  whose  ultimate  r6le  it  is  to 
console  this  forlorn  Ariadne  after  her  nobler 
Theseus  has  gone.*  Another  is  the  blighted 
btack  lihcen-smitten  tree  (ch.  vii),  which  the 
lovers  pass  and  repass  near  Berne.  The  third 
is  Alvan's  musing  remark  in  their  first  con- 
versation :  "  Part  of  you  may  be  shifty  sand. 
The  sands  are  famous  for  their  golden  shining 
— as  you  shine.  Well,  then,  we  must  make 
the  quicksands  concrete"  (ch.  iv).  Set  this 
beside  the  remark  in  ch.  ix :  "he,  when  no 
longer  flattered  by  the  evidence  of  his  mastery, 
took  her  for  sand  " — and  you  have  the  clue  to 
Meredith's  treatment  of  the  whole  affair 
between  the  two  lovers.  It  is  his  favourite 
topic,  the  thwarting  power  of  conventional 
society,  especially  with  regard  to  women,  who 
are  daughters  of  the  Philistines,  and  rarely 
possess  sufficient  courage  to  be  true  to  them- 
selves. That  was  Clotilde's  weakness.  Her 
training  and  situation  were  against  bravery. 
Alvan  saw  that  before  she  did  (see  ch.  vi), 
and  the  tragedy  of  the  situation  was  that 
when  she  came  to  recognise  this,  false  pride 

»  This  recall*  one  of  Diana's  witticism*  (see  the  opening  chapter  of 
"Diana  of  the  Cros»ways  "). 


George  Meredith 

prevented  him  from  taking  her  at  her  word. 
Society  is  thus  to  blame  for  such  a  tragedy. 
So  is  the  woman  herself,  however.  And  so 
is  the  man. 

Alvan  is  represented  as  a  tragic  comedian, 
"that  is,  a  grand  self-pretender,  a  self- 
deceiver."  Meredith  interprets  his  character 
as  a  fine  mind  wrecked  by  stormy  blood.  He 
was  "a  revolutionist  in  imagination,  the 
workman's  friend  in  rational  sympathy,  their 
leader  upon  mathematical  calculation,  but  a 
lawyer,  a  reasoner  in  law,  and  therefore  of 
necessity  a  cousin  germane,  leaning  to  become 
an  ally,  of  the  Philistines."  Thus  his  passion 
for  a  daughter  of  the  Philistines  might,  if 
successful,  have  meant  the  blunting  of  his 
radical  edge.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  his  momen- 
tary deference  to  Philistine  sentiment  in  his 
courtship  proved  his  ruin.  He  ceased  to  be 
himself.  He  was  no  longer  independent  of 
opinion  and  single-minded,  and  he  paid  for 
the  lapse  into  vanity. 

Like  Sir  Willoughby  Patterne,  Alvan  is  an 
egoist,  who  has  a  fear  of  being  jilted,  for  jilt- 
ing means  ridicule ;  he  also  seeks  to  master 
for  his  own  purposes  the  mind  of  a  young  lady 
286 


The  Tragic  Comedians 

whose  heart  he  has  captured.  "When  we 
are  man  and  wife,"  he  boasts,  "then  I  shall 
have  '  will '  enough  for  both,  and  she  will  be 
as  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter."  "It  is 
really  a  piece  of  extraordinary  good  fortune 
that  at  the  age  of  thirty-nine  and  a  half,  I 
should  be  fortunate  enough  to  find  a  wife  so 
beautiful,  so  sympathetic — who  loves  me  so 
much,  and  who — an  indispensable  require- 
ment— is  so  entirely  absorbed  in  my 
personality."  What  is  pure  comedy  in  the  Mr. 
Collins  of  "Pride  and  Prejudice"  becomes 
tragedy  in  the  pages  of  Meredith's  semi- 
historical  romance. 


287 


DIANA  OF  THE  GROSSWAYS 


Diana  of  the  Crossways 

novel,  issued  in  book-form  in  1885, 
had  a  larger  immediate  success  than 
any  other  of  Meredith's  romances ;  it  went 
through  no  fewer  than  three  editions  in  the 
year  of  publication.  There  was  a  special 
reason  for  this.  "Diana"  was  published  in  a 
time  of  political  excitement,  and  it  carried 
on  the  political  motive  which  had  been  opera- 
tive in  the  previous  two  or  three  novels. 
It  proved  to  be  more  significant  as  the 
first  of  the  final  quartette  which  were  all  to 
handle  with  some  daring  the  problems  of 
modern  marriage,  but  what  helped  largely 
to  recommend  it  to  the  public,  was  its 
reputation  as  a  roman  a  clef.*  Like  its 
immediate  predecessor,  it  drew  upon  a 


*  The  facts  were  summarised  in  an  article  which  appeared  in  "  Temple 
Bar,"  vol.  cxxi.  The  colourless  notes  written  by  Lord  Melbourne,  which 
the  Hon.  George  Norton  actually  produced  as  evidence,  are  said  to  have 
supplied  a  hint  to  Dickens  when  he  was  writing  the  famous  trial-scene  in 
Pickwick. 

291 


George  Meredith 

comparatively  recent  episode  which  had 
caused  a  huge  sensation  in  political  circles, 
though  Meredith's  use  of  the  radiant  and 
witty  Caroline  Norton's  career  was  far  more 
free  and  slight  and  kind  than  his  treatment 
of  Helene  von  Donniges.  In  "The  Tragic 
Comedians"  he  had  laced  his  philosophy  on  the 
woman's  version  of  a  love-episode  in  her  life. 
His  sympathy  with  Lassalle  had  made  him 
unjust  to  Helene,  and  therefore  inartistic ;  the 
attempt  to  gloss  over  the  dismal  stupidity  of 
the  hero's  attempt  to  find  a  Republican 
princess  in  a  sweet,  forward,  weak  coquette, 
left  the  latter  unequal  to  the  weight  of  the 
dramatic  situation.  In  "Diana,"  however, 
Meredith  was  in  love  with  his  heroine,  and 
the  husband  of  real  life  offered  no  serious 
obstacle  to  the  novelist's  art  The  result  was 
a  masterpiece,  which  has  had  far  more  than 
an  ephemeral  or  factitious  success. 

Diana  Antonia  Merion  is  a  clever  and 
beautiful  young  Irish  orphan,*  whose  closest 
friend  is  Lady  Dunstane.  "I  nursed  her," 
says  the  latter,  "when  she  was  an  infant ;  my 

*  Like  Aminta.  Diana  has  also  a  vein  of  Spanish  blood  in  her. 

292 


Diana  of  the  Grossways 

father  and  Dan  Merion  were  chums.  We 
were  parted  by  my  marriage  and  the  voyage 
to  India."  When  the  story  opens,  Sir  Lukin, 
Lady  Dunstane's  husband,  is  retiring  from  the 
army  for  the  ostensible  reason  of  looking  after 
his  estates  at  Gopsley  in  Surrey  and  in  Scot- 
land, and  of  devoting  himself  to  his  wife,  whose 
health  is  not  strong.  Lady  Dunstane  meets 
Diana  once  more  at  a  Dublin  ball,  given  in 
honour  of  an  Irish  general.*  The  girl  is 
nineteen  and  alone  in  the  world  ;  during  a 
series  of  visits  to  various  country-houses  in 
England  she  finds  her  unprotected  position  is 
rendered  intolerable  by  the  odious  attentions 
of  certain  male  guests.  She  returns  to 
Copsley,  where  she  imagines  she  is  safe  with 
her  friend.  To  her  horror,  however,  she 
discovers  that  Sir  Lukin  ,is  trying  to  take 
liberties  with  her.  In  order  to  spare  Emma, 
her  friend,  she  keeps  silence  upon  the  insult. 
But  her  outraged  pride  and  sense  of  loyalty  to 
Lady  Dunstane  force  her  to  the  conviction 
that  Copsley  cannot  any  longer  be  a  real 
home  to  her  ;  she  departs  on  a  round  of  visits, 

*  "She  make*  everything  in  the  room  doit  round  a  blazing  jewel,"  sayj 
Lord  Larrian. 

293 


George  Meredith 

and  the  next  news  of  her  is  that  she  is  to 
marry  a  Mr.  Augustus  Warwick,  aged  thirty- 
four,  nearly  fifteen  years  her  senior.  He  is  a 
retired  barrister,  a  cold,  self-satisfied  person, 
whom  Lady  Dunstane  compared  to  "a  house 
locked  up  and  empty :  a  London  house 
conventionally  furnished  and  {decorated  by 
the  upholsterer  and  empty  of  inhabitants." 
Diana  had  once  dubbed  him  "a  gentlemanly 
official  * ;  she  had  met  him  first  at  the  Gross- 
ways,  of  which  his  aunt  and  uncle  were 
tenants,  and  her  reason  for  marrying  him  is 
attributed  by  Meredith  mainly  to  an  impulse 
of  self-defence.  She  is  not  in  love  with  him. 
She  simply  wants  a  husband  in  order  to  secure 
a  position  in  the  social  world  which  will 
relieve  her  from  unpleasant  attentions.  The 
dismay  of  Lady  Dunstane — who  is  baffled  by 
Diana's  action — is  only  equalled  by  the 
disappointment  of  Mr.  Thomas  Redworth,  a 
sterling  gentleman,*  who  had  been  in  love 
with  the  brilliant  beauty  since  the  night  of  the 


*  In  ch.  v  Meredith,  by  one  of  his  flying  touches,  notes  Redworth'* 
appreciation  of  Diana's  mind  as  well  as  of  her  beauty.  "Her  view  of  things 
had  a  throne  beside  his  own.  even  in  their  differences."  Add  the  fine 
passatfe  in  ch.  xxxvii:  "Redworth  believed  in  the  soul  of  Diana.  ..  She  was 
m  tool ;  therefore  perpetually  pointing  to  growth  in  purification,"  etc. 

294 


Diana  of  the  Crossways 

Irish  ball  but  had  hesitated  to  propose  to  her 
on  account  of  an  honourable  conviction  that 
no  man  has  the  right  to  court  a  woman  unless 
he  has  bank-book  ability  to  support  her 
comfortably.  Redworth's  financial  position, 
however,  has  improved  so  much  that  he  is  on 
thepoint  of  asking  Diana's  hand,  when  the  news 
of  her  mysterious  engagement  arrives.  He  is 
too  staunch  and  brave  to  be  piqued.  He  mag- 
nanimously wishes  Diana  to  know  "  she  has 
not  lost  a  single  friend  through  her  marriage." 
The  girl  soon  needs  all  her  friends.  Before 
long  she  realises  that  her  marriage  has  been  a 
alse  step.  She  and  her  husband  are  hope- 
lessly incompatible.  Her  house  in  England  is 
called  "The  Gross  ways,"  and  the  name 
becomes  grimly  symbolic  of  her  situation. 
"No  two,"  she  confesses,  "ever  came  together 
so  naturally  antagonistic  as  we  two.  We 
walked  a  dozen  steps  in  stupefied  union,  and  hit 
upon  crossways.  From  that  moment  it  was 
tug  and  tug ;  he  me,  and  I  him.  By  resisting, 
I  made  him  a  tyrant,  and  he  by  insisting  made 
me  a  rebel."  Her  husband's  ambitions  bring 
them  into  political  society,  where  Diana,  in 
reckless  indifference  to  gossip,  soon  enters 
295 


George  Meredith 

upon  an  apparently  compromising  relationship 
with  the  Whig  premier,  Lord  Dannisburgh. 
Her  r6le  is  that  of  his  Egeria.  She  finds  in 
him  what  she  misses  in  her  husband, 
appreciation  of  her  wit  and  intelligence. 
Warwick,  in  a  fit  of  malign  jealousy,  sues  for 
a  divorce.  Diana,  proudly  conscious  of  her 
innocence  but  shrinking  from  a  public  scandal, 
which  would  oblige  her  to  act  the  part  of 
injured  innocent,  prepares  to  leave  England. 
Lady  Dunstane,  feeling  that  this  would  expose 
her  to  fatal  misconception,  sends  Redworth  to 
intercept  her.  He  finds  her  at  "The  Gross- 
ways"  and,  after  a  great  scene — one  of  the 
strong  passages  in  the  book — induces  her  to 
return  first  to  Copsley  and  then  to  London, 
where  her  friends  rally  round  her.  The  case 
is  decided  in  her  favour  (rather  to  her  secret 
disappointment),  but  she  has  soon  to  be  taken 
abroad  by  friends  in  order  "to  escape  the 
meshes  of  the  terrific  net  of  the  marital  law, 
brutally  whirled  to  capture  her  by  the  man 
her  husband."  The  sick,  jealous  partner  in 
the  background,  trying  to  thwart  a  mate  in 
the  open,  is  a  foretaste  of  Mrs.  Burman  in 
"  One  of  Our  Conquerors." 
296 


Diana  of  the  Crossways 

This  is  the  first  phase  of  Diana's  married 
life.  The  second  opens  with  her  literary 
ambitions.  She  takes  to  writing  fiction,  partly 
for  the  sake  of  a  livelihood,  and  returns  to 
London  to  enter  on  the  career  of  a  successful 
novelist  and  a  society  lady  with  a  salon  or  circle 
of  congenial  spirits.  Meantime,  however,  she 
has  met  *  and  fascinated  t  the  Hon.  Percy 
Dacier,  Lord  Dannisburgh's  nephew,  who 
is  a  rising  young  politician ;  her  second 
novel,  "The  Young  Minister  of  State,"  is 
supposed  to  be  a  study  of  him,  and  gossip  is 
rife  upon  their  relationship,  which  is  in  reality 
ripening  into  a  genuine  love-passion.  Mr. 
Warwick's  renewed  threats  of  enforcing  his 
marital  rights  bring  matters  to  a  head.  I  Dacier 
pleads  with  her  to  elope  with  him.  In 
desperation  she  eventually  consents,  but,  on 
the  eve  of  departing,  she  is  summoned  to 
Gopsley  where  Lady  Dunstane  has  to  undergo 


*  The  description  of  this  meeting,  at  Rovio,  in  ch.  xvi.  \»  a  fresh  illusrta- 
tion  of  Meredith's  ability  to  set  nature  and  human  moods  in  rhythm. 

t  The  rather  melodramatic  episode  of  her  vigil  beside  the  corpse  of  the 
Prime  Minister  heightens  the  emotional  tension  between  her  and  Dacier. 

I  The  scene  between  Diana  and  Lady  Watkin  (in  ch.  xxiii)  recalls  the 
inimitable  interview  between  Gelimene  and  ArsinoS  in  the  fourth  scene  of 
the  third  act  of  "  Le  Misanthrope"— one  of  Meredith's  favourite  comedies 
(alluded  to  in  ch.  zviii). 

297 


George  Meredith 

a  serious  operation.  Redworth  is  her  lady- 
ship's messenger,  and  thus  he  again  intervenes 
— this  time  unconsciously — so  as  to  save 
Diana  from  a  false  step.  "I  am  always  at 
Cross  ways,"  she  reflects,  "and  he  saves  me." 
Nearly  a  year  passes  before  Dacier  and 
Diana  meet  again.  The  former  has  got  over 
the  blow  to  his  pride  inflicted  by  Diana's 
failure  to  keep  her  promise,  and  their  passion 
is  renewed.  What  finally  wrecks  it  is  Diana's 
betrayal  of  a  political  secret  which  he 
entrusted  to  her.  She  tells  this  to  the  editor 
of  "  The  Times  "  ;  Dacier  angrily  throws  her 
off,  and  the  next  news  of  him  is  his  engage- 
ment to  a  Miss  Constance  Asper,  with  whom 
his  name  had  been  connected  for  some  years. 
Diana  collapses  under  the  shock.  Mr. 
Warwick  dies,  by  the  irony  of  events,  but 
while  she  is  now  free  to  marry  Dacier,  the 
latter  has  broken  with  her.  Lady  Dunstane 
nurses  her  back  to  health  and  spirits,  and 
eventually  Redworth  persuades  her  to  accept 
his  long-tried  love.  When  she  had  begun  life, 
she  had  undervalued  his  noble  heart.  "I 
wanted  a  hero,  and  the  jewelled  garb  and  the 
feather  did  not  suit  him."  But  she  is  now 

298 


Diana  of  the  Crossways 

cured  of  her  girlish  sentimentalism,  which 
tended  among  other  things  to  make  her 
regard  courage  as  essentially  a  military  virtue 
(compare  the  thirty-first  chapter  of  "  Beau- 
champ's  Career  ").  Her  wounded  pride  takes 
longer  to  heal.  Not  for  some  time  does  she 
consent,  like  Mrs.  Millamant,  to  "dwindle 
into  a  wife."  The  treatment  she  has  received 
during  her  married  life  makes  her  reluctant 
to  give  up  her  new  liberty.  "  The  thought 
of  a  husband  cuts  one  from  any  dreaming. 
It's  all  dead  flat  earth  at  once!"  (compare  the 
outbursts  in  chs.  iv  and  xiv).  Thanks  largely 
to  Lady  Dunstane's  wise  management,  how- 
ever, which  recalls  the  treatment  of  Emilia  by 
Powys  and  his  sister,  Diana  ceases  to  be 
hyper-sensitive ;  she  no  longer  shifts  and 
winds  to  escape  Redworth's  patient  wooing  ; 
and  her  hesitation  at  last  yields  to  the  chivalry 
and  nobility  of  her  lover.  Lady  Dunstane 
had  stamped  him  as  "one  of  those  rare  men 
of  honour  who  can  command  their  passion  ; 
who  venerate  when  they  love."  Diana 
comes  to  recognise  the  truth  of  this  character- 
isation before  it  is  too  late,  and  Meredith  for 
once  allows  his  readers  to  lay  down  a  novel 
299 


George  Meredith 

with  that  sense  of  pleasure  which  Darwin 
thought  every  novel  should  provide  at  the 
close  of  its  evolutions. 

Later  editions  of  "Diana"  contain  the 
following  prefatory  note.  "A  lady  of  high 
distinction  for  wit  and  beauty,  the  daughter 
of  an  illustrious  Irish  house,  came  under  the 
shadow  of  calumny.  It  has  latterly  been 
examined  and  exposed  as  baseless.  The  story 
of  '  Diana  of  the  Grossways '  is  to  be  read  as 
fiction."  Thereby  hangs  a  tale.  Certain 
traits  in  Diana's  character  had  been  originally 
derived  from  that  of  Caroline  Norton,  the 
novelist.  A  granddaughter  of  Sheridan,  who 
had  married  a  barrister,  the  Hon.  George 
Norton,  she  was  the  defendant  in  an  un- 
successful divorce-case  in  which  Lord 
Melbourne,  the  Prime  Minister,  appeared 
as  co-respondent.*  Mrs.  Norton,  who  con- 
tinued to  live  as  a  beautiful  and  popular 
woman  in  London  society,  was  further 
suspected  of  having  disclosed  to  the  editor  of 
the  "Times"  Sir  Robert  Peel's  decision  to 


*  Melbourne,  then  over  fifty,  was  one  of  her  admirer*.  She  bad  applied 
to  him,  (or  the  sake  of  his  friendship  with  her  father,  to  procure  an  appoint- 
ment for  her  lazy  husband. 

300 


Diana  of  the  Crossways 

repeal  the  Corn  Laws,  a  secret  which  had 
been  told  her  in  confidence  by  Sidney 
Herbert,  one  of  her  admirers.  Lord  Dufferin 
subsequently  found  that  this  rumour  was 
unfounded.  The  person  responsible  for  the 
journalistic  coup  was  Lord  Aberdeen,  and,  so 
far  from  the  transaction  being  surreptitious, 
it  is  probable  that  the  communication  was 
made  with  Sir  Robert  Peel's  consent. 

Meredith's  analysis  of  the  motives  which 
led  his  Diana  to  take  this  step  is  the  weak  spot 
in  the  novel.  If  any  explanation  is  to  be 
sought  for  this  inexplicable  action,  the  real 
clue  probably  lies  in  her  excited  mood,  when 
Dacier  came  back  at  night  to  tell  her  the  great 
secret.  "Her  present  mood  was  a  craving 
for  excitement — for  incident,  wild  action." 
She  could  not  satisfy  this  craving  in  the  story 
she  was  writing,  and  when  an  opportunity  of 
gratifying  her  passion  for  dramatic  effect  in 
real  life  came,  it  was  the  psychological 
moment*  The  great  editor  had  often  taunted 
her  with  the  staleness  of  her  news.  Now, 
she  was  a  day  or  two  before  anyone,  and  she 


*  Dacier,  for  his  own  purpose,  "  had  artfully  lengthened  out '  the  newt,' 
to  excite  and  overbalance  her." 

301 


George  Meredith 

leapt  at  the  chance  of  astonishing  her  friend 
the  journalist  and  of  enjoying  a  thrilling 
moment  of  triumph.  She  was  on  the  verge 
of  bankruptcy,  thanks  to  her  extravagant 
mode  of  life,*  but  the  price  of  the  secret  was 
not  her  primary  motive.  The  curious  thing 
is  that  she  seems  to  have  ignored  any  thought 
of  an  injury  done  to  Dacier.  The  liberty  he 
had  taken  of  embracing  her  had  evidently 
humiliated  her  pride  and  stirred  a  fit  of 
resentment  against  him,  which  prevented  her 
from  considering  his  feelings.  The  result  of 
the  interview  with  the  editor,  Meredith  is 
careful  to  explain,  is  to  revive  her  sense  of 
importance  and  self-esteem.  It  was  not  till 
the  indignant  Dacier  taxed  her  next  day  with 
treachery,  that  the  full  meaning  of  her  im- 
pulsive action  broke  upon  her. 

It  was  not  only  from  Mrs.  Norton,  however, 
that  Meredith  drew  the  portrait  of  his  Diana. 
One  must  also  read,  in  this  connexion,  some 
sentences  from  his  introduction  to  the  new 
edition  (1902)  of  "  Lady  Duff  Gordon's 


*  She  bad  Buttered  into  speculation  in  the  city,  like  Lady  Grace  in  "One 
of  Our  Conqueror*,"  bur  there  wo  no  Mr.  Radnor  to  pluck  her  ont  before 
.he  wat  plucked. 

302 


Diana  of  the  Grossways 

Letters  from  Egypt."  "Women,  not  en- 
thusiasts, inclined  rather  to  criticise,  and  to 
criticise  so  independent  a  member  of  their  sex 
particularly,  have  said  that  her  entry  into  a 
ball-room  took  the  breath.  Poetical  compari- 
sons run  under  heavy  weights  in  prose  ;  but 
it  would  seem,  in  truth,  from  the  reports  of 
her,  that  wherever  she  appeared  she  could  be 
likened  to  Selene  breaking  through  cloud  ; 
and,  further,  the  splendid  vessel  was  richly 
freighted.  Trained  by  a  scholar,  much  in  the 
society  of  scholarly  men,  having  an  innate  bent 
to  exactitude,  and  with  a  ready  tongue  docile 
to  the  curb,  she  stepped  into  the  world  to  be 
a  match  for  it.  She  cut  her  way  through  the 
accustomed  troop  of  adorers,  like  what  you 
will  that  is  buoyant  and  swims  gallantly." 
This  characterisation  of  a  woman  who  com- 
bined radiant  beauty  *  with  a  fine  intelligence 
suggests  one  of  the  quarters  where  Meredith 
must  have  found  hints  not  only  for  Clara 
Middleton  but  for  Diana  Warwick. 

Meredith    compares    her  (in  ch.   viii)  to 
Hermione,  who  also  was  a  beautiful  wife 

*  The  dark  brows  and  Grecian  features  of  Lady  Gordon  correspond  to 
what  we  are  told  of  Diana's  personal  appearance  in  ch.  i. 

303 


George  Meredith 

suspected  and  wronged  by  her  vindictive 
husband.  But  Hermione  was  a  mother  ;  she 
became  reconciled  to  Leontes  in  the  end  ;  and 
her  love  lacked  any  impulsive  or  ardent 
passion.  In  all  these  respects,  particularly  in 
the  last,  Diana  differs  from  her  Shakesperean 
prototype.  What  really  suggests  Hermione  is 
the  bravery  and  high  spirits  of  Mrs.  Warwick,* 
who  also  has  the  good  fortune  to  enjoy 
the  devoted  confidence  and  respect  of  her 
supporters.  Hermione  is  not  witty,  but 
Diana  is  given  some  of  the  author's  happiest 
and  deepest  sayings.  "The  more  I  know  of 
the  world  the  more  clearly  I  perceive  that  its 
top  and  bottom  sin  is  cowardice,  physically 
and  morally  alike."  "  We  women  miss  life 
only  when  we  have  to  confess  we  have  never 
met  the  man  to  reverence."  "Gossip  is  a 
beast  of  prey  that  does  not  wait  for  the  death 
of  the  creature  it  devours."  "We  women  are 
taken  to  be  the  second  thoughts  of  the 
Creator  ;  human  nature's  fringes,  mere  finish- 


*  Not  invariably,  of  course.  Meredith  is  too  wile  to  make  of  her,  any. 
more  than  of  Vittoria.  a  plaster  model.  Compare  her  confession  of  vanity 
and  cowardice  in  ch.  zxvii  and  her  sentimental  worship  of  military  courage 
at  the  outset.  "  I  am  open  to  be  carried  on  a  ride  of  unreasonsblenetn 
when  the  coward  cries  out." 

304 


Diana  of  the  Grossways 

ing  touches,  not  a  part  of  the  texture."  "To 
be  pointedly  rational  is  a  greater  difficulty  to 
me  than  a  fine  delirium."  This  last  aphorism 
is  taken  from  the  opening  chapter,  which  is  of 
the  same  stuff  as  the  preludes  to  "The 
Amazing  Marriage"  and  "The  Egoist,"  but 
the  writing  is  more  personal  and  less  abstract 
than  in  the  latter  case.  It  is  better  read  after 
than  before  a  first  perusal  of  the  story. 
Meredith's  triple  object  is  to  create  an  atmos- 
phere of  expectancy  for  the  entrance  of  his 
heroine,  to  analyse  sentimentalism  afresh,  and 
to  defend  his  own  method  of  philosophic 
fiction  more  widely  and  vigorously  than  in  the 
introduction  to  "The  Tragic  Comedians." 
One  of  Diana's  sayings  quoted  in  this  chapter, 
by  the  way,  beginning:  "A  brown  cone 
drops  from  the  fir-tree  before  my  window,  a 
nibbled  green  from  the  squirrel.  Service  is 
our  destiny  in  life  and  death" — is  the  prose 
core  of  the  little  "  Dirge  in  the  Woods"  which 
he  had  written  fourteen  years  before.*  In 
the  "nuptial  chapter"  which  closes  the 

*  Another  saying  on  the  world  ("  From  the  point  of  vision  of  the  angels 
this  oily  monster,  only  half  out  of  slime,  must  appear  our  one  constant 
hero")  anticipates  the  thought  of  the  lines  on  "  Men  and  Man"  which 
appeared  two  years  later  in  "  Ballads  and  Poems  of  Tragic  Life." 

T  305 


George  Meredith 

novel,  Diana  returns  to  the  same  thought. 
"  Marriage,"  she  reflects,  "  might  be  the  arch- 
way to  the  road  of  good  service." 

Lady  Dunstane  is  a  closer  friend  to  Diana 
than  Rebecca  Wythan  to  Carinthia,  and  Red- 
worth's  part  *  in  her  life  is  more  intimate  than 
that  of  Owain  Wythan,  but  Redworth  is 
moulded  out  of  the  same  clay  as  the  Welsh 
squires  in  "Sandra  Belloni"  or  in  "The 
Amazing  Marriage,"  and,  next  to  Dacier,  this 
staunch,  humble,  honourable  admirer  is  the 
most  important  male  figure  in  Diana's  story. 
When  the  tale  opens,  he  is  in  Ireland  on 
Government  business  ;  he  happens  to  meet 
the  young  beauty  at  the  ball,  where  he  falls 
in  love  with  her  at  first  sight ;  but  too  scrupu- 
lously he  waits  till  his  income,  swollen  by 
successful  railway  speculations,  is  large 
enough  to  give  this  matchless  girl  what  he 
considers  that  she  deserves.  Redworth  is  the 


*  Like  Matey  Weyburn.  he  is  a  cricketer  and  looks  well  in  flannels  (see- 
ch, xl).  Compare  Crossjay'a  attempt  to  explain  Vernon  Whitford's 
reliable  character  to  Clara  (in  "The  Egoist,"  ch.  viii).  "  If  you  look  on  at 
cricket,  in  comes  a  safe  man  for  ten  runs.  He  may  get  more,  and  he  nev.r 
gets  less  ;  and  you  should  hear  the  old  farmers  talk  of  him  in  the  booth." 
This  is  rather  clever  for  a  boy.  but  it  hits  off  the  class  of  men  to  whom 
Redworth  belongs  (see  above,  page  42).  He  wins  Diana  for  the  reason 
given  by  Faust :  "  Nur  der  verdient  die  Gunst  der  Frauen.  der  kraft  .<<vt  sic 
zu  schiitzen  weiss." 

306 


Diana  of  the  Crossways 

high  hero  of  the  book,  though  he  is  an  M.P., 
and  Meredith  honours  him  by  putting  into  his 
lips  the  acute  estimate  of  the  Irish  character 
in  ch.  iii  ("Irishmen  are,  like  horses,  bundles 
of  nerves ;  and  you  must  manage  them,  as 
you  do  with  all  nervous  creatures,  with  firm- 
ness but  good  temper,  etc  ").  Next  year  the 
author  interposed  in  the  panic  of  the  Home 
Rule  controversy  with  four  pages  upon 
"Concessions  to  the  Celt"  (in  the  October 
"Fortnightly  Review"),  which  appealed  to 
the  English  public  for  sanity  and  justice 
instead  of  coercion.  The  article  elaborated 
what  the  novel  had  suggested.  One  of  its 
most  characteristic  passages  is  as  follows : 
"The  cries  we  have  been  hearing  for  Crom- 
well or  for  Bismarck  prove  the  existence  of 
an  impatient  faction  in  our  midst  fitter  to 
wear  the  collars  of  those  masters  whom  they 
invoke  'han  t*  drop  a  vote  into  the  ballot-box. 
.  .  .  The  braver  exemplar  for  grappling  with 
monstrous  political  tasks  is  Cavour,  and  he 
would  not  have  hinted  at  the  iron  method 
or  the  bayonet  for  a  pacification.  Cavour 
challenged  debate  ;  he  had  faith  in  the  active 
intellect,  and  that  is  the  thing  to  be  prayed  for 
307 


George  Meredith 

by  statesmen  who  would  register  permanent 
successes."  Read  with  this  the  paragraphs  in 
ch.  xxi  of  the  novel  ;  they  reveal  Meredith's 
possession  of  the  "firm  and  instructed  genius" 
which  Bagehot  happily  ascribed  to  Scott  in 
another  province. 

Diana's  love  of  natural  science  (ch.  xvi) 
reflects  the  teaching  of  "Melampus";  the 
same  interest  in  botany,  which  was  so  vivid 
in  Meredith's  own  mind,  comes  out  in  Selina 
Collett  and  Goren,  amongst  others.  The 
book  is  also  studded  with  little  gems  of  wood- 
land scenery,  e.g.,  at  the  opening  of  ch.  xix  or 
of  ch.  xxxix.  The  latter  passage  character- 
istically describes  how  Diana  felt  her  way  back 
to  mental  peace  and  happiness  by  giving  her- 
self up  to  the  habit  of  noting  "what  bird  had 
piped,  what  flower  was  out  on  the  banks,  and 
the  leaf  of  what  tree  it  was  that  lay  beneath 
the  budding."  It  was  her  love  of  Nature  that 
saved  her  from  despair  and  cynicism. 


ONE  OF  OUR  CONQUERORS 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

THIS  novel,  published  in  book-form  in 
1891,  received  from  most  of  its  critics 
pail  after  pail  of  cold  water.  It  is  the  least 
popular  of  all  the  novels,  and  this  is  due  not 
simply  to  its  subject — the  union  of  a  man  and 
woman  who  defy  the  conventional  marriage 
laws  —  but  to  its  style  and  construction. 
The  book  has  three  supremely  fine  studies 
in  character,  Victor,  Nataly,  and  Dudley 
Sowerby  ;  but,  unluckily,  it  riots  in 
Meredithese,  and  the  sense  of  effort  is  more 
than  the  sense  of  power.  Mr.  William 
Watson,  in  his  famous  article  in  "The 
National  Review"  had  asserted  that  no  milder 
word  than  detestable  could  be  applied  to 
Meredith's  style.  Nothing  but  the  blunt 
phrase  of  "intellectual  coxcombry"  could 
"adequately  describe  the  airs  of  superiority, 
the  affectation  of  originality,  the  sham  pro- 
fundities, the  counterfeit  subtleties,  the 
311 


George  Meredith 

pseudo-oracularisms  of  this  book."  He  was 
alluding  to  "The  Egoist,"  but  his  invective 
applies  more  truly  to  "One  of  Our  Con- 
querors."* It  is  blotted  by  ornate  and  forced 
phrases,  by  a  swarm  of  unusually  recondite 
allusions,  and  also  by  a  singular  weakness  of 
construction.  Its  pages  are  too  crowded  with 
minor  characters,  who  are  rarely  in  proper 
perspective,  and  of  these  the  musical  circle 
which  surrounds  the  Radnors  is  simply  a 
bundle  of  eccentricities  labelled  with  names. 
The  sole  exceptions  are  the  Frenchwoman, 
Mdlle.  Louise  de  Seilles,  and  the  ponderous 
cleric,  Septimus  Barmby  ;  the  former  gets 
the  cosmopolitan  comments  on  British  in- 
sularity which  Meredith  loves  to  introduce, 
while  the  latter  is  at  least  more  human  than 
the  rest  of  his  brethren  in  this  or  in  the  other 
novels,  and  is  treated  with  a  certain  touch  of 
respect  and  even  sympathy.  The  unusual 
prominence  given  to  the  clergy  among  the 
minor  dramatis  persona  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  clergy,  together  with  the  lawyers,  repre- 
sent to  Meredith  the  buttresses  of  the 

*  dlimfcne'a  remark  on  Damis  applies  to  Meredith's  style  her*  I 
"  II  eat  gnind£  sans  cesse  ;  et  dans  tout  ses  propoa 
On  voit  qu'il  ae  travaille  a  dire  les  bona  rnoU. " 
312 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

conventional  society,  with  its  institutions  and 
traditions,  which  the  novelist  is  bent  on 
criticising.  Thus,  while  Peacock  in  his 
stories  usually  makes  the  Tory  clerical  bon 
vivants  the  exponents  of  his  own  philosophy  of 
jovial  delight  in  the  good  things  of  this  world, 
Meredith  turns  upon  them  with  caustic  and 
even  satirical  contempt.  From  the  priest  in 
"  Vittoria  "  to  the  cleric  here,  they  exercise  no 
influence  whatever  upon  the  central  figures  of 
the  story.  The  Comic  Spirit  never  penetrated 
into  the  inner  world  of  vital  Christianity,  any 
more  than  Balzac's  genius  did. 

The  reader  is  tantalised  all  through  the 
novel  by  references  to  an  Idea  which  is 
supposed  to  elude  Victor  from  beginning  to 
end.  No  novel  by  a  first-rate  writer  ever 
began  worse,  and  this  Idea  is  one  of  its 
mistakes.  But  an  equally  exasperating  feature 
is  the  number  of  clever,  nimble-witted 
digressions.  Several  of  Meredith's  novels 
tempt  more  than  the  hazy,  lazy  reader  to 
repeat  Don  Quixote's  advice  to  the  puppet- 
showman  :  "  Go  straight  on  with  your  story, 
and  don't  run  into  curves  and  slants." 
"One  of  Our  Conquerors"  provokes  this 
313 


George  Meredith 

retort  perhaps  more  often  than  any  of  its 
predecessors  Meredith  loiters  in  it,  and  the 
loitering  is  all  the  more  unsatisfactory  that  it  is 
a  pleasure  to  himself;  it  allows  him  to  show 
off  his  psychological  paces  and  to  curvet  from 
side  to  side  of  the  road. 

The  main  track  of  the  tale  is  as  follows. 

Victor  Montgomery  Radnor,  when  barely 
twenty-one  had  married  a  middle-aged  widow, 
Mrs.  Burman,  for  the  sake  of  her  money. 
She  was  about  forty  years  old  and  was 
enamoured  of  the  gay,  mercurial  youth.  She 
actually  encouraged  her  young  husband  to 
practise  singing  along  with  her  handsome  lady- 
companion,  a  Miss  Natalia  Dreighton,  the 
daughter  of  a  good  Yorkshire  family.  The 
two  young  people,  thus  thrown  together,  fell 
in  love.  Victor's  inflammable  nature  started 
into  rebellion  against  the  false  position  in 
which  he  had  placed  himself;  Nataly  gave  up 
the  stage  in  order  to  save  him  from  despair 
and  worse,  and  the  pair  eloped.  The  first 
error  of  Victor's  life  had  been  submission  to 
the  world,  a  consent  to  secure  wealth  and 
social  position  at  the  expense  of  natural  affec- 
tion. He  then  tried  to  retrieve  this  error  by 
314 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

breaking  through  the  conventional  limits  of 
the  world  and  following  for  the  first  time  the 
instincts  of  Nature  in  the  guise  of  love  for 
Miss  Dreighton.  Neither  he  nor  Nataly  ever 
regretted  the  step.*  Their  marriage  was 
perfectly  happy  ;  a  daughter  Nesta  was  born 
to  them ;  andj  Mr.  Radnor  amassed  a  large 
fortune  in  the  City.  He  was  liberal  and 
popular,  desirous  to  be  on  good  terms  with  all 
and  sundry.  "  Mr.  Radnor  could  rationally 
say  that  he  was  made  for  happiness  ;  he  flew 
to  it,  he  breathed,  he  dispensed  it." 

To  the  world  the  pair  seemed  an  ordinary 
husband  and  wife.  But  their  union  was  still 
illegal.  Mrs.  Burman,  instead  of  suing  for  a 
divorce,  against  which  she  had  religious 
scruples,  had  preferred  the  subtler  revenge  of 
retaining  her  legal  position  as  Radnor's  wife, 
and  thereby  preventing  him  from  marrying 
Natalia.  She  had  fallen  into  ill-health  and 
never  went  into  society.  No  persecution  of 

*  See  the  passage  in  ch.vi,  the  first  of  the  marvellous  analyses  of  Nataly '• 
nature : — "  Her  sun  ender  then  might  be  likened  to  the  detachment  of 
a  flower  on  the  river's  bank  by  swell  of  flood  :  she  had  no  longer  root  of 
her  own ;  away  she  sailed,  through  beautiful  scenery,  with  occasionally  a 
crashing  fall,  a  turmoil,  emergence  from  a  vortex,  and  once  more  the 
whirling  surface.  .  .  .  But  even  when  it  is  driving  us  on  the  breakers,  call 
h  love  :  and  be  not  unworthy  of  it,  hold  to  it."  Set  further,  ch.  xi  and 

Ch'"V'  315 


George  Meredith 

the  pair  was  undertaken  by  her.  So  long 
as  they  lived  quietly,  she  never  interfered. 
But  the  irrepressible  social  ambitions  of 
Victor  could  not  be  satisfied  short  of  an  open 
and  popular  position  in  society,*  and,  when- 
ever he  made  any  such  move,  Mrs.  Burman 
contrived  to  circulate  rumours  which  let  a 
cold  wind  of  suspicion  blow  upon  the  pair, 
until  they  were  obliged  to  withdraw.  This 
had  happened  twice,  at  Craye  Farm  and 
Creckholt,  where  the  situation  had  become 
intolerable  for  them,  and  especially  for  the 
sensitive  Natalia.  Mr.  Radnor  could  not  bear 
to  stay  where  she  had  felt  wounded  by  social 
ostracism.  But,  in  spite  of  all  this,  he  could 
not  grasp  the  idea  of  a  life  simply  lived 
according  to  Nature  ;  though  his  relations 
with  Nataly  had  given  him  the  chance  of 
that,  he  madly  tried  to  improve  upon  it  by 
incongruously  demanding  the  sanctions  and 
luxuries  of  conventional  society. 
Victor,  however,  true  to  his  name,  has  deter- 

*  It  U  characteristic  of  his  inveterate  sanguiner^ss  that  he  bad  been 
influenced,  if  not  prompted,  to  this  course  of  action  by  realising  that  he 
could  exact  respect  from  hia  partner  and  his  partner's  wife  :  both  of  them 
knew  the  secret,  and  yet  they  were  subservient  to  him.  "  Why,"  Victor 
argued,  "  this  foreshadows  a  conquered  world !  If  I  can  win  them.  I  can 
win  all  the  reat !  " 

316 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

mined  to  make  a  third  and  final  effort  to  win 
the  esteem  of  the  world  which  he  has  defied. 
This  is  the  second  and  tragic  folly  of  his  career. 
"A  position  secretly  rebellious,"  Meredith 
explains,  "is  equal  to  water  on  the  brain  for 
stultifying  us."  He  tries  to  keep  from  his  wife 
and  daughter  the  fact  that  he  has  bought  a  new 
estate  and  built  a  large  mansion,  to  form  the 
scene  of  fresh  operations.  There  are  special 
reasons  for  this  move.  Nesta  is  by  this  time 
nearly  twenty-one,  and  for  her  sake  especially 
the  father  feels  that  he  must  retrieve  his  false 
position  before  the  world.  There  is  a  rumour, 
too,  that  Mrs.  Burman  is  about  to  sue  for  a 
divorce  at  last.  Altogether  Victor  is  in  his 
element,  plotting  for  social  happiness  anew. 

The  book  opens  on  the  eve  of  the  visit 
which  he  has  arranged  for  his  wife  and 
daughter  and  a  party  of  their  friends  to  pay 
to  Lakelands,  by  way  of  inaugurating  the  new 
venture.  Nataly  is  alarmed  and  distressed  at 
her  husband's  fresh  infatuation.  "  Now  once 
more  they  were  to  run  the  same  round  of 
alarms,  undergo  the  love  of  the  place,  with 
perpetual  apprehensions  of  having  to  leave 
it."  Victor  is  even  contemplating  a  seat  in 
317 


George  Meredith 

Parliament,  which,  as  she  realises,  will  mean 
the  exposure  of  herself  and  him  and  their 
daughter  to  the  gossip  of  the  world.  She  has 
no  heart  for  her  position  of  rebel  against  the 
world's  conventions.  But  her  love  for  Victor 
is  genuine,  and  she  is  prepared  as  usual  to  let 
him  have  his  way.  The  situation  is  compli- 
cated by  Nesta,  however.  The  daughter 
knows  nothing  of  her  parents'  past.  Neither 
does  Dudley  Sowerby,  a  young  aristocrat,* 
who  is  courting  Nesta  with  the  full  consent  of 
Victor  ;  the  latter  sees  in  such  a  marriage  the 
protection  of  his  dear  daughter,  but  Nataly 
honourably  shrinks  from  allowing  the  youth 
to  entangle  himself  unawares.  Victor  feels 
Nataly's  lack  of  cordiality  in  the  matter  of 
Lakelands  and  of  the  love-suit ;  he  rather 
resents  it  and  attributes  it  to  a  feminine  lack 
of  nerve.  In  reality  her  moral  courage  is 
greater  than  her  physical ;  the  strain  has 
produced  symptoms  of  heart  disease,  and 
attacks  of  this  illness  periodically  recur, 
although  she  conceals  them  heroically  from 
her  husband. 

*  Meredith'*  analysis  of  thii  ronn£  man'*  victory  over  pride  and 
prejudice,  through  his  love  for  Neita,  is  one  of  the  triumphs  of  the  book. 
He  develops  from  •  cold,  conventional  scion  of  the  Philistines  into  • 
manly  fellow. 

318 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

Meantime  the  campaign  at  Lakelands  opens 
with  great  eclat,  but  Mrs.  Burman  once  more 
interferes,  by  sending  her  butler  to  warn 
Victor  that  he  must  retire  into  obscurity. 
He,  buoyed  up  by  reports  of  her  increasing 
ill-health,  determines  to  defy  her,  and 
summons  poor  Nataly  to  face  the  risk  of 
becoming  Godiva  to  the  gossips  for  a  while. 
In  order  to  prevent  Nesta  from  hearing  too 
much,  he  induces  his  two  maiden  sisters* 
near  Tunbridge  Wells  to  take  her  for  a  visit 
As  Sowerby's  family-seat  is  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, he  uses  his  opportunity  to  woo  Nesta 
successfully.  Meantime  the  father  and  mother 
had  fled  to  the  Continent,  to  escape  rumours 
about  their  position  which  were  circulating 
round  Lakelands. 

Nataly,  on  her  return,  hears  that  Captain 
Dartrey  Fenellan,  a  friend  who  has  returned 
from  South  Africa,  is  now  a  widower,  and 
conscious  that  he  is  a  truer  mate  for  Nesta 
than  Sowerby,  as  well  as  sensible  of  her 
duty  to  the  latter  suitor,  she  takes  her  courage 
in  her  two  hands  and  tells  Sowerby  the 

*  They  are  puritanic  in  their  conventional  horror  of  Victor'*  relation  to 
Nataly,  and  it  is  only  after  persistent  appeals  (described  with  a  farcical 
r)  that  they  consent  to  receive  even  Nest*. 

319 


George  Meredith 

relations  between  herself  and  Victor.  The 
latter,  who  hears  nothing  about  this  step  for 
a  week,  then  feels  slightly  aggrieved  at  what 
he  considers  the  lack  of  true  courage  on 
Nataly's  part,  whom  he  actually  thinks 
inferior  to  a  Lady  Halley  in  this  respect. 
He  had  wanted  to  wait  till  Mrs.  Burman's 
death — which  he  confidently  expected  very 
soon — before  speaking  out.  Meantime  Nesta,* 
who  has  accompanied  the  Duvidney  ladies  to 
Brighton,  t  happens  to  meet  a  certain  Mrs. 
Judith  Marsett,  who  is  one  of  the  Rahabs  of 
Society  (compare  the  poem,  "The  Sage 
Enamoured  and  the  Honest  Lady"),  but  who 
is  more  wronged  than  evil.  Nesta,  with 
quick  intuition,  divines  the  good  element  in 
her  and,  in  spite  of  a  maidenly  aversion, 
sympathises  with  her  freely.  Major  Worrell, 
an  objectionable  friend  of  Mrs.  Marsett,  takes 


*  It  is  owing  to  Nesta's  sisterly  championship  of  Judith  Marsett  that 
Captain  Marsett  agrees  to  marry  the  woman  who  as  yet  has  no  legal  title 
to  his  name. 

t  She  had  been  entrusted  to  their  care,  to  be  out  of  harm's  way.  But  it 
is  when  with  them  that  she  gets  her  eyes  opened  to  the  inner  facts  about 
women  and  men  who  are  outside  the  laws  of  matrimony.  When  the  good 
ladies  arrange  for  her  departure,  they  do  so  saying,  "  The  good  innocent 
girl  we  received  from  the  hands  of  your  father,  we  return  to  him  :  we  are 
cure  of  that."  But  Ncstm's  visit  to  Brighton  had  changed  her  outlook 

320 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

advantage  of  the  girl's  friendship  with  the 
latter  to  insult  Nesta;  for  which  Captain 
Dartrey  Fenellan  horsewhips  him.  The 
news  of  this  scandal  repels  Sowerby  ;  he  has 
just  managed  to  overcome  his  pride  enough 
to  go  on  with  his  engagement  to  Nesta,  but 
this  entanglement  of  her  with  a  public  scandal 
makes  him  inclined  in  a  fit  of  disgust  to  give 
her  up  altogether.  She,  the  last  of  all  women 
to  allow  herself  to  be  talked  about,  had 
become  a  topic  at  the  clubs !  Nesta,  knowing 
nothing  of  this,  goes  home,  and  learns  the 
secret  of  her  birth  from  Nataly,  whose 
heroism  touches  her  heart.  Mother  and 
daughter  at  last  fully  understand  one  another. 
Victor,  meanwhile,  perseveres  with  his  social 
campaign,  which  causes  torture  to  the  wife 
and  the  daughter ;  and,  to  make  matters 
worse,  Sowerby  tells  Nataly  of  the  scandal 
round  Nesta's  name  at  Brighton.  The  mother 
is  upset.  She  feels  humiliated  and  irritated 
at  the  girl,  fearing  "that  corruption  must 
come  of  the  contact  with  impurity."  Their 
confidence  is  broken.  Captain  Dartrey  re- 
assures her,  however ;  Nesta's  conduct  only 
adds  to  his  admiration  for  the  tall,  pure- 
u  321 


George  Meredith 

minded  girl,  who  had  lifted  Mrs.  Marsett  by 
her  innocent  sympathy.  But  Nataly  refuses 
to  be  comforted.  She  now  thinks  Sowerby 
a  more  suitable  husband  for  her  daughter, 
whose  indiscretion  shows  that  she  requires 
"for  her  husband  a  man  whose  character  and 
station  guaranteed  protection  instead  of  incit- 
ing to  rebellion."  Dartrey's  character,  on  the 
contrary,  appeals  more  and  more  to  Nesta's 
growing  sense  of  what  a  true  mate  must  be 
in  life,  for  the  Captain  takes  an  independent, 
unconventional  view  of  women's  rights.  She 
resents  Sowerby's  plea  that  she  should  dis- 
sociate herself  from  a  notorious  woman,  and, 
to  the  intense  disappointment  of  her  father 
and  mother,  decides  to  reject  him.  Victor 
had  always  associated  Lakelands  with  her 
marriage  to  Sowerby,  and  the  break-down 
of  the  latter  project  threatens  to  affect  the 
former  enterprise.  He  is  undaunted,  how- 
ever,  in  his  efforts  to  win  a  seat  in  Parliament 
On  the  day  before  his  candidature  opens, 
he  is  summoned  by  Mrs.  Burman,  now  on 
her  death-bed,  to  an  interview.  Nataly 
accompanies  him,  and  the  dying  woman 
formally  forgives  the  pair.  Victor's  triumph 
322 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

now  seems  at  last  within  reach.*  Mrs. 
Burman's  death  will  enable  him  to  legalise 
his  union  with  Nataly  ;  another  week  will 
see  them  settled  in  Lakelands ;  and  a  seat 
in  Parliament  will  crown  his  social  am- 
bitions. But  the  strain  of  the  interview 
with  Mrs.  Burman,  supervening  on  her 
alienation  from  Nesta,  proves  too  much  for 
Nataly.  She  dies,  the  next  evening,  of  heart- 
disease,  while  Victor  is  at  his  first  meeting. 
He  returns  to  find  her  gone,  and  the  shock 
drives  him  mad.  By  the  irony  of  fate,  the 
news  of  Mrs.  Burman's  death  arrives  just  at 
this  moment ;  she  had  died  five  and  a  half 
hours  after  her  younger  rival. 

Nesta  t  refuses  Sowerby's  renewed  offer  of 
his  hand ;  she  marries  DartreyFenellan  whom 
she  owns  "for  leader,  her  fellow  soldier, 
warrior  friend,  hero,  of  her  own  heart's  mould, 
but  a  greater."  Dartrey  respected  women, 

*  Like  Beauchamp,  he  is  under  the  domination  of  a  single  idea  (see 
below)  ;  bat  he  only  gets  a  tardy  glimpse  of  the  idea  which  Beauchamp 
urged  from  the  first,  that  the  true  aristocracy  of  the  country  must  give  a 
lead  to  the  people  by  showing  them  the  right  use  of  money,  among  other 
things,  and  by  abjuring  the  pursuit  of  luxury  and  self-display.  Victor  only 
perceives  this  vaguely,  and  only  after  he  has  been  chastened  by  a  touch  of 
failure  or  a  threatening  of  danger  in  his  wild  schemes  (see  chap.  i). 

t  She  recruits  her  health,  like  Harry  Richmond,  among  the  Alps. 

323 


George  Meredith 

instead  of  sentimentalising  over  them,  and 
this  decides  her  in  his  favour. 

The  title  of  the  story  (taken  from  an  earlier 
tale)  is  semi-satirical.  Victor  Montgomery 
Radnor  does  not  prove  a  real  victor  in  his 
struggle  against  the  world.  He  loses  his  cause, 
his  wife,  and  his  reason.  He  is  a  successful 
merchant,  who  regards  money  as  a  means  to 
higher  things  ;  he  is  a  man  not  of  the  world 
but  of  ideas,  generous,  philanthropic,  hospit- 
able, intelligent,  and  chivalrous  in  his  own 
way  ;  he  is  faithful  in  all  his  relationships, 
fond  of  music,  and  a  brilliant  host.  But  he  is 
conquered  in  the  end,  and  the  reason  of  his 
defeat  lies  chiefly  in  his  false  attitude  to  life. 
His  demand  for  recognition  at  the  hands  of 
conventional  society  is  analysed  as  a  violation 
of  Nature.  "We  are  distracted,  perverted, 
made  strangers  to  ourselves,  by  a  false 
position."  In  this  subtle  study  of  the  incor- 
rigible optimist,  Meredith  shows  how  Victor 
suffers  not  only  from  the  results  of  his  initial 
false  step  but  from  the  fact  that  he  allows  his 
wealth  and  social  ambitions  (equivalent  to 
circumstance  or  conventionality)  to  divert 
him  from  his  true  self  and  turn  him  into  an 
324 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

object  propelled  by  forces  outside  his  control, 
which  he  cannot  fathom.  "He  who  has  a 
scheme  is  the  engine  of  it ;  he  is  no  longer 
the  man  of  his  tastes  or  of  his  principles ;  .  .  . 
he  is  more  the  arrow  to  his  bow  than  the  bow 
to  his  arrow."  Victor's  enterprise  thus 
acquires  such  a  grasp  of  him  as  to  precipitate 
him  into  courses  of  action,  or  rather  of 
intrigues  and  scheming,  which  wreck  the 
happiness  of  his  wife  and  destroy  his  better 
self.  He  cannot  bear  to  be  beaten  in  his 
campaign  against  society.  His  fall  on  London 
Bridge  is  a  dramatic  reminder  of  the  risks  he 
is  running  ;  life  had  become  the  crossing  of 
a  bridge,  with  a  slippery  bit  on  it;  but  he 
waves  off  the  reminder  with  the  heat  of  wine 
and  self-confidence.  His  spirit  is  unteachable, 
and  the  vanity  of  the  man,  nourished  on  his 
past  series  of  successes,  lures  him  on  until  he 
falls  into  the  pit  digged  for  him  by  his  own 
folly.*  In  his  power  of  deceiving  himself  and 
others  for  the  time  being  he  resembles  Roy 
Richmond.  Like  him  he  cannot  see  the  true 

*  Victor,  like  more  than  one  of  Meredith's  leading  characters,  illustrates 
the  Aristotelian  maxim  that  the  proper  character  for  •  tragedy  is  a 
prosperous,  reputable  man,  who  is  wrecked  not  by  vice  or  depravity  but 
by  some  error. 

325 


George  Meredith 

strength  and  happiness  of  a  simple  life,  or 
the  fact  that  the  only  success  worth  seeking 
implies  brotherhood  and  service  of  one 
another,  not  any  social  triumph. 

Victor's  overpowering  fascination  and 
magnetic  personality  lead  him  to  treat  Nataly 
as  a  pleasant  slave  rather  than  as  a  true  mate 
— the  common  fault  of  those  who  fail  in  the 
Meredith-romances.  The  analysis  of  her 
nature,  with  its  loyalty  to  love,  its  heroic 
devotion,  its  torture  and  perversion,  is 
masterly.  Victor  declines  to  consult  with  his 
wife ;  he  prefers  to  plan  for  her  on  his  own 
account ;  and  the  result  is  that  her  wisdom 
and  better  intuitions  prove  of  no  use  to  him. 
It  is  only  towards  the  end  that  Nataly,  like 
Vittoria,  realises  she  would  have  done  better 
to  resist  her  husband's  glamour  than  to  give  in 
to  him  as  she  has  done.  She  blames  herself  for 
not  having  been  stronger,  and  she  plucks  up 
courage  to  act  upon  her  own  initiative ;  but  it 
is  too  late.  The  main  mischief  has  been  done. 
For  this  Meredith  blames  not  the  woman  so 
much  as  the  conventional  standards  of  society 
which  put  her  "into  her  woman's  harness  of 
the  bit  and  the  blinkers,  and  taught  to  know 

326 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

herself  for  the  weak  thing,  the  gentle  parasite. 
.  .  .  And  she  must  have  a  sufficient  intelli- 
gence ;  for  her  stupidity  does  not  flatter  the 
possessing  man.  It  is  not  an  organic  growth 
that  he  desires  in  his  mate,  but  a  happy 
composition."  Nesta,  the  daughter,  inherits 
from  her  mother  this  hard-won  lesson  of 
experience.  She  has  "a  nature  pure  and 
sparkling  as  mid-sea  foam,"  as  her  husband 
once  said  of  her;  she  reminds  one  of  the 
American  girl  at  her  best ;  but  she  is  a  trifle 
sententious,  and  it  is  Nataly  who  is  the 
heroine  of  the  story.  Victor's  bright  spirits  had 
been  at  first  her  rescue  from  a  morbid  despair  ; 
"he  raised  the  head  of  the  young  flower  from 
its  contemplation  of  grave-mould."  But,  by 
the  irony  of  events,  it  was  his  irrepressible 
optimism  which  crushed  this  lily  among 
women.  One  of  Meredith's  loveliest  stanzas 
describes  a  bright  morning  after  a  stormy  night: 

"As  beholds  her  flowers 
Earth,  from  a  night  of  frosty  wreck, 
Enrobed  in  morning's  mounted  fire, 
When  lowly,  with  a  broken  neck, 
The  crocus  lays  her  cheek  to  mire." 
We  cannot  but  think  of  that  stanza  when  we 
327 


George  Meredith 

read  poor  Nataly's  fate.  All  her  instincts  were 
for  the  normal  civilisation,  and  circumstances 
made  her  a  rebel !  She  never  regretted  her 
push  for  love,  but  she  was  obliged,  by  her 
husband's  uncontrolled  ambition,  to  take  part 
in  a  struggle  for  recognition  at  the  hands  of  a 
world  whose  laws  they  had,  in  all  good 
conscience,  broken.  Her  flower-like  nature 
collapses  under  the  illogical  strain.*  The 
pathos  and  tragedy  of  her  lot  form  one  of 
Meredith's  great  successes  in  psychological 
analysis  and  creative  art. 

As  for  minor  points :  note  the  glimpses 
of  London  (e.g.  in  ch.  v :  "  and  if  haply  down 
an  alley  some  olive  mechanic  of  street-organs 
has  quickened  little  children's  legs  to  rhythmic 
footing,  they  strike  on  thoughts  braver  than 
pastoral")  which  often  recall  Henley's  lines 
"In the  Dials" and  his  "London  Voluntaries"; 
"One  of  Our  Conquerors"  is  more  of  a 
London  book  than  even  "  Rhoda  Fleming." 
Meredith's  whole  vision  of  the  squalor  and 
romance  of  London-life  ("a  thing  for  hospital 
operations  rather  than  for  poetic  rhapsody  ") 

*  The  crocus-simile  is  applied,  less  tragically,  to  Ottilia  in  the  twetity- 
foarth  chapter  of  "The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond." 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

in  this  chapter  is  a  pendant  to  de  Quincey's 
famous  seventh  chapter  in  his  "  Autobio- 
graphic Sketches."  His  appreciative  attitude 
towards  the  Salvation  Army  in  the  person  of 
Matilda  Pridden  answers  to  the  poem  on 
"Jump  to  Glory  Jane"  which  had  appeared 
two  years  before. 

The  sketch  of  Skepsey,  the  clerk  with  a  love 
of  boxing,  has  the  breath  of  Dickens  about 
it,  but  it  is  more  than  caricature.  The 
insistence  (in  ch.  v)  upon  the  inadequacy  of 
satire  to  fulfil  the  conditions  of  song,  which 
is  the  test  of  sanity,  was  echoed  next  year  in 
"The  Empty  Purse":— 

"Ask  of  thyself:  this  furious  Yea 
Of  a  speech  I  thump  to  repeat, 
In  the  cause  I  would  have  prevail, 
For  seed  of  a  nourishing  wheat, 

Is  it  accepted  of  Song? 
Does  it  sound  to  the  mind  through  the  ear, 
Right  sober,  pure  sane?    has  it 

disciplined  feet  ? 
Thou  wilt  find  it  a  test  severe  ; 

Unerring  whatever  the  theme." 
There  are  more  farthings  among  the  gold 
pieces  in  this  novel  than  in  almost  any  of  its 
329 


George  Meredith 

predecessors,  but  now  and  then  we  get  a 
sterling  thought,  tersely  or  daintily  stamped, 
e.g.,  "If  you  would  like  a  further  definition 
of  genius,  think  of  it  as  a  form  of  swiftness." 
"Look  upon  bouquets  and  clusters,  and  the 
idea  of  woman  springs  up  at  once."  "Modern 
Realists  imagine  it's  an  exposition  of  positive 
human  nature,  when  they  've  pulled  down 
our  noses  to  the  worst  parts."  "The  very 
meaning  of  having  a  heart,  is  to  suffer  through 
others  or  for  them."  "  One  of  the  scraps  of 
practical  wisdom  gained  by  hardened  sufferers 
is  to  keep  from  spying  at  horizons  when  they 
drop  into  a  pleasant  dingle."  Note  also  the 
analysis  of  the  French  character  in  ch.  x,  the 
epigram  on  clubs  (ch.  xiii),  and  the  witty 
sketch  of  Mr.  Inchling  in  ch.  xviii. 

The  wine-chapters  (iii — iv)  are  a  fresh 
reminder  that  Meredith's  leading  characters 
are  apt  to  be  what  Rabelais  called  beuverge, 
i.e.  addicted  and  inclined  to  wine ;  but 
Meredith  does  not  go  to  the  length  of  Peacock* 

*  In  "  Eraser's  Magazine  "  for  October,  1857,  Peacock  wrote  an  essay 
on  "The  Bacchic  Birth  of  Poetry,"  in  order  to  prove  that  good  poetry 
depended  on  good  liquor,  and  the  same  vinous  enthusiasm  reappears  in 
the  second  chapter  of  "The  Misfortunes  of  Elphin."  The  sentence  in  the 
preface  to  •  re-itsue  of  his  novels  (1837),  that  "  the  fastidious  in  old  wine 
are  a  race  that  doe*  not  decay,"  has  quite  a  Mereditbian  flavour  about  it. 

330 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

in  his  glorification  of  conviviality,  and  in 
this  novel  he  expressly  adds  the  aphorism : 
"The  fighter  for  conquering  is  the  one 
who  can  last  and  has  the  open  brain ;  and 
there  you  have  a  point  against  alcohol."  His 
enthusiasm  for  wine  arises  partly  from  his 
desire  to  appreciate  the  full  joys  of  the  natural 
life  and  also  from  his  sense  of  its  social  effects. 
Meredith's  drinkers  are  not  sots.  Their  very 
taste  in  wine  forms  part  of  their  culture. 

Meredith  does  equal  justice  to  the  qualities 
of  the  third  source  of  happiness  as  defined  in 
"Wein,  Weib,  und  Gesang."  Next  to  the 
Emilia  novels,  this  is  his  most  musical. 
"  What  glory  is  it  to  a  Gentleman,"  says 
Richardson,  "if  he  were  even  a  fine  Per- 
former, that  he  can  strike  a  String,  touch  a 
Key,  or  sing  a  Song  with  the  Grace  and 
Command  of  a  hired  Musician  ?  "  Meredith 
takes  a  much  more  sympathetic  and  intelligent 
view  of  music  in  relation  to  the  upper  classes. 
Music  drew  Victor  and  Nataly  together,  and 
it  proved  one  of  their  consolations,  but  it  was 
music  of  a  first-class  order.  They  were  not 
pottering  amateurs.  Dudley  Sowerby,  in- 
deed, when  he  played  on  the  flute,  "went 
331 


George  Meredith 

through  the  music  somewhat  like  an  inquisi- 
tive tourist  in  a  foreign  town,  conscientious 
to  get  to  the  end  of  the  work  of  pleasure." 
But  the  rest  are  genuine  musicians,  and  in 
this  they  resemble  several  of  Meredith's 
larger  figures.  Beauchamp  is  unmusical,  but 
Redworth  enjoys  the  opera  intelligently  and 
sings  himself;  so  does  Diana.  Meredith 
acknowledges  in  "Sandra  Belloni,"  as  here, 
the  high  genius  of  Beethoven,  but  in  "  One 
of  Our  Conquerors "  (see  ch.  xiii)  he  shows 
his  old  preference  for  the  earlier  Italian  opera 
of  melody  as  compared  to  Wagner.  Vittoria 
sings  to  the  conspirators  "a  song  of  flourishes ; 
one  of  those  beflowered  arias  in  which  the 
notes  flicker  and  leap  like  young  flames." 
Diana's  favourite  opera  is  the  "  Puritani," 
and  Victor  is  fond  of  Gorelli,  "  the  old  barley- 
sugar  of  Bellini  or  a  Donizetti-Serenade. 
Never  mind  Wagner's  tap  of  his  pedagogue's 
baton — a  cadence  catches  one  still." 

The  allusions  to  a  dramatic  satire  called 
"  The  Rajah  in  London"  are  passable,  though 
Peacock's  "  Aristophanes  in  London,"  which 
may  have  been  its  partial  prototype,  was 
more  vital  to  "Gryll  Grange."  But  the 
332 


One  of  Our  Conquerors 

semi-allegorical  tale  of  Delphica,  which  Colney 
Durance  is  allowed  to  inflict  upon  his  friends, 
is  simply  intolerable.  Dudley  Sowerby 
protested  that  it  was  neither  fact  nor  fun,  and 
probably  it  was  only  the  feeling  that  he  was 
talking  to  a  lady — and  to  a  friend  of  the 
author — which  prevented  him  from  doing  the 
same  justice  to  the  subject  as  Alceste  did  to 
the  far-fetched  lines  of  Oronte's  sonnet. 


333 


LORD  ORMONT 
AND  HIS  AMINTA 


Lord  Ormont  and  His  Aminta 

'T^HIS  novel,  published  in  book-form  in 
-••  1894,  is  shorter  and  easier  to  read  than 
either  "One  of  Our  Conquerors"  or  "The 
Amazing  Marriage,"  but,  although  the  style 
and  the  plot  are  simpler,  it  deals  with  much 
the  same  problem,  viz.  the  false  position 
created  by  (a)  a  marriage  into  which  the  man 
and  woman  have  entered  from  motives  other 
than  genuine  love,  and  (b)  by  the  man's  false 
pride  afterwards.  The  basis  of  the  story  is 
the  career  of  Charles  Mordaunt,  Earl  of 
Peterborough,  a  brilliant  and  hot-headed 
soldier  who  served  with  distinction,  especially 
in  the  Spanish  war,  but  fell  into  disgrace  with 
the  authorities  for  his  arbitrary  actions  in  the 
field.  Not  until  a  few  years  before  his  death 
did  he  acknowledge  that  he  had  married 
Anastasia  Robinson,  a  well-known  vocalist, 
about  a  dozen  years  earlier.  The  historical 
germ  of  the  novel  was  truer  than  in  the  case 
v  337 


George  Meredith 

of  "  Diana  of  the  Gross  ways,"  but  the  real 
interest  of  the  book — which  is  more  of  a 
sketch  than  a  finished  picture — lies  in  the 
deft  studies  of  character  and  in  the  analysis 
of  the  marriage-problem  with  which  Meredith 
has  enriched  his  pages. 
The  following  is  an  analysis  of  the  plot 
Lord  Ormont  is  a  major-general  of  cavalry, 
who  had  learnt  riding  before  he  was  ten, 
fighting  before  he  was  twelve,  and  outpost 
duty  in  the  Austrian  frontier  cavalry  before 
he  was  twenty.  He  had  served  in  the  Penin- 
sula, in  Canada,  and  in  India  where  his 
exploits  as  a  cavalry  leader  and  as  a  swords- 
man had  won  him  high  repute  throughout 
the  army.  He  is  a  courteous,  gallant,  and 
honourable  soldier,  with  a  lurid  kind  of 
reputation  in  the  field  of  love,  where  he  had 
been  obliged  to  fight  more  than  one  duel. 

An  enthusiastic  hero-worship  *  of  Lord 
Ormont  unites  the  boys  and  girls  in  two 
adjacent  English  schools.  The  former  are 
headed  by  Matthew  Weyburn,  or  Matey, 
whose  father,  Colonel  Sidney  Weyburn,  had 

*  This  is  one  of  the  traits   common  to   Weyburn   and    Beauchamp. 
Another  it  that  both  were  the  ions  of  British  officer*. 

338 


Lord  Ormont  and  His  Aminta 

died  in  a  cavalry  charge  at  Toulouse.  The 
girls  are  led  by  Aminta  Farrell,  or  Browny,  a 
pretty  brunette.  Her  face  seems  "  a  frontis- 
piece of  a  romantic  story  some  day  to  be  read," 
and  the  romantic  story  begins  before  very  long. 
A  flirtation  between  Matey  and  Browny  ends 
in  the  withdrawal  of  the  latter  from  school  to 
live  with  her  aunt  near  Dover.  Matey  also 
leaves  school  soon  afterwards.  Unable  to 
enter  the  army  for  lack  of  money,  he  prepares 
himself,  by  study  abroad,  for  a  schoolmaster's 
career  ;  his  idea  being  to  form  a  cosmopolitan 
school  in  the  Bernese  Alps,  where  boys  and 
girls  of  any  nationality  or  religion  can  be 
trained  together,  and  Old  England  taught  to  the 
Continent,  as  the  Continent  to  Old  England. 
Meantime,  a  daring  exploit  of  Lord  Ormont 
brings  him  into  conflict  with  the  political 
authorities  in  India,  and  he  continues  the 
controversy  by  writing  letters  to  the  English 
newspapers.  Disgusted  at  the  way  he  has 
been  treated,  he  returns  home  to  nurse  his 
resentment  of  the  country's  black  ingratitude. 
A  year  or  two  later,  when  travelling  in  Spain 
he  meets  Aminta  and  her  aunt.  Aminta  has 
Spanish  blood  in  her,  and  she  retains  her 


George  Meredith 

girlish  worship  for  Lord  Ormont,  the  hero  of 
her  schooldays.  They  are  married  at  Madrid ; 
he  actuated  by  admiration  for  Aminta's  style 
and  beauty,  and  also  by  an  impulse  of  satis- 
faction with  her  obvious  hero-worship,  which 
falls  like  balm  upon  his  wounded  pride  ;  she, 
not  in  love  so  much  as  in  the  sentimental 
passion  of  a  girl  not  yet  out  of  her  teens  for  a 
man  whom  she  has  idealised.  The  romance 
does  not  last  very  long.  Aminta  soon 
discovers  that  it  is  one  thing  to  worship  a 
hero,  another  thing  to  marry  him.  Lord 
Ormont,  soured  and  angry  at  his  country  for 
having  broken  his  military  career  and 
ridiculed  his  part  in  the  newspaper  contro- 
versy, refuses  curtly  to  return  to  England 
with  his  bride ;  when  eventually  he  does  so, 
after  seven  years,  he  declines  to  enter  English 
society.  He  prefers  to  sulk  in  his  tent.  He 
regards  Aminta's  natural  desire  for  social 
recognition  as  erratic  and  disloyal,  and  he 
fails  to  see  that  this  inaction  on  his  part  is  a 
covert  reflection  on  his  wife.  His  relatives, 
especially  Lady  Charlotte  Eglett,  his  sister, 
knowing  his  reputation  and  character,  decline 
to  believe  that  he  has  married  the  girl ;  the 
340 


Lord  Ormont  and  His  Aminta 

result  is  that  she  appears  to  society  in  the  r6le 
of  a  Lady  Doubtful,  and  this  false  position,  in 
which  his  wounded  pride  has  placed  her, 
exposes  Aminta  to  unpleasant  gossip  as  well 
as  to  dangerous  sympathy.  Lord  Ormont 
is  too  self-centred  to  realise  this.  He  wishes 
to  hit  the  world  for  having  slighted  him,  and 
in  doing  so  he  hits  the  honour  and  happiness 
of  his  own  wife.  "A  finer  weapon,"  he 
reflects,  "wherewith  to  strike  at  a  churlish 
world  was  never  given  into  the  hands  of  man. 
These  English  may  see  in  her,  if  they  like, 
that  they  and  their  laws  and  customs  are 
defied.  It  does  her  no  hurt,  and  it  hits  them 
a  ringing  buffet."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  does 
hurt  Aminta.  Her  pride  is  wounded  irrepar- 
ably. She  begins  to  criticise  her  hero, 
recognising  his  military  and  personal  virtues 
but  also  his  ignorance  of  the  proper  way  to 
treat  a  woman  and  his  disbelief  "in  her  having 
equal  life  with  him  on  earth."  She  has 
courage  and  nerve  and  capacity.  But  he 
neglects  her  claims  to  the  status  of  a  recognised 
wife,  and  insists  on  regarding  her  as  a  sort  of 
puppet  instead  of  as  a  comrade.  The  fact  is, 
Lord  Ormont's  idea  of  managing  a  wife  was 
341 


George  Meredith 

practically  that  of  managing  a  regiment ;  his 
orders  must  be  followed ;  he  gives  the  lead, 
"  their 's  not  to  reason  why,  their 's  not  to 
make  reply." 

Matters  are  brought  to  a  head  by  the 
unintentional  intervention  of  Matthew 
Weyburn,  who  is  sent  by  Lady  Eglett 
ostensibly  to  be  private  secretary  to  Lord 
Ormont  and  to  assist  him  in  the  writing  of 
his  memoirs.*  Lady  Eglett's  secondary  motive 
for  this  action  is  bad.  She  thinks  Weyburn's 
handsome  figure  may  detach  Aminta  from 
Lord  Ormont  and  so  relieve  the  latter  of  an 
incubus.  This  dim  hope  is  justified  in  a  very 
different  manner  from  what  she  expects. 
Matey  and  Browny  eventually  recognise  each 
other,  and  their  relationship  becomes  both 
delicate  and  equivocal.  The  old  romantic 
passion  stirs  in  them,  though  at  first  they  are 
hardly  conscious  of  it  But — as  Meredith 
implies,  in  a  subtle,  almost  hyper-subtle, 
analysis  of  their  relations— they  are  too  hon- 
ourable to  admit  it  even  to  themselves,  though 


*  The  allusion  to  the  fit  of  panic  over  a  threatened  invasion  (ch.  tz)  recall* 
the  more  detailed  and  equally  sarcastic  description  in  the  first  chapter  of 
"  Beauchamp's  Career."  and  the  line*  "  To  Colonel  Charles." 

342 


Lord  Ormont  and  His  Aminta 

Aminta's  admiration  for  Weyburn  is  as 
undisguised  as  his  sympathy  with  her  toneless, 
unhappy  position  in  London  and  his  contempt 
for  Lord  Ormont's  perverse  and  cruel  conduct. 
The  latter  adds  to  his  offences  by  refusing  to 
take  his  wife  to  Steignton,  his  country  estate 
— a  refusal  which  is  naturally  set  down  by 
Lady  Eglett  to  the  fact  that  her  brother  is 
heartily  ashamed  of  his  connexion  with  the 
girl.  Lord  Ormont  then  leaves  for  a  visit  to 
Paris,  and  in  his  absence  the  end  of  the 
business  begins.  Three  incidents  help  to 
precipitate  the  crisis.  One  is  the  death  of 
Weyburn's  mother;  Aminta  happens  to  be 
present,  and  the  emotional  strain  *  brings  the 
pair  of  them  closer  together.  Pity  for  her 
clouded  position  did  not  create  his  love  for 
her,  but  it  quickened  it  into  a  perilous  warmth.. 
The  undesirable  attentions  of  a  London  roue, 
Mr.  Morsfield,  further  help  to  awaken 
Aminta  to  the  slumbering  capacities  of  passion 
in  her  nature,  at  the  very  moment  when  she 
realises  that  her  affinity  is  Weyburn.  Finally, 
she  determines  to  pay  a  flying  visit  to 

•  With  the  passage  on  prayer  (ch.  xiv),  compare  Dr.  Shrapnel's 
to  "Beauchamp's  Career"  (ch.  xxix). 

343 


George  Meredith 

Steignton  on  her  own  account,  that  she  may 
see  the  place  where  she  might  have  been 
happy.  This  impulse  marks  the  ebb,  not  the 
flow,  of  her  belief  in  Lord  Ormont.  It  is  due 
to  the  sense  that  he  had  now  forfeited  her 
affection.  The  visit,  she  feels,  will  "close  a 
volume.  She  could  not  say  why  the  volume 
must  be  closed."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had 
forgiven  her  husband,  but,  like  Garinthia  in 
"The  Amazing  Marriage,"  "the  shattering  of 
their  union  was  the  cost  of  forgiveness." 
She  is  conscious  that  he  has  degraded  her  by 
wounding  her  self-respect,  "  and  what  is  a 
woman's  pride  but  the  staff  and  banner  of  her 
soul,  beyond  all  gifts?  He  who  wounds  it 
cannot  be  forgiven — never! — he  has  killed 
the  best  of  her."  Meantime  Lord  Ormont 
has  partially  relented.  On  hearing  that  his 
wife  had  been  refused  presentation  at  Court, 
he  hurries  home  in  order  to  prepare  Steignton 
for  her  reception  and  surprise  her  by  thus 
yielding  to  her  wishes.  He  will  bend  his 
pride  thus  far.  She  must  give  up  all  thoughts 
of  a  London  career,  but,  if  she  agrees  to  this, 
he  is  willing  to  live  with  her  at  Steignton,  and 
so  make  amends  to  her  for  the  past.  "To 
344 


Lord  Ormont  and  His  Aminta 

time  ani  a  wife  it  is  no  disgrace  for  a  man  to 
bend.  It  is  the  form  of  submission  of  the 
bulrush  to  the  wind,  of  courtesy  in  the  cavalier 
to  a  lady."  Lady  Eglett,  who  has  heard  of 
her  brother's  preparations  at  Steignton,  drives 
down  with  Weyburn  to  ascertain  the  reason 
of  it.  They  meet  there  Aminta  and  her  aunt, 
who  had  been  joined  on  the  road  by  Mr. 
Morsfield,  against  Aminta's  wishes.  Lord 
Ormont,  in  a  fit  of  irritation,  sends  Aminta 
back  in  charge  of  Weyburn,  and,  under  the 
tension  of  the  moment,  the  two  realise  that 
only  honour  keeps  them  from  trembling  into 
one  another's  arms.  Weyburn's  self-command 
prevails,  however.  He  will  not  take  advan- 
tage of  the  situation.  Lord  Ormont,  too  proud 
to  apologise  to  Aminta  or  to  acknowledge  that 
he  has  wronged  her,  then  tries  to  make  some 
practical  amends  in  another  direction  by 
taking  a  house  for  her  on  the  Thames.  But 
Aminta's  eyes  are  at  last  opened  to  his  real 
character  and  to  the  state  of  her  own  heart ; 
the  disillusionment  is  complete.  After  a 
stubborn  struggle,  he  induces  his  sister  to  part 
with  the  family  jewels,  hoping  by  the  gift  of 
them  to  propitiate  Aminta,  while  at  the  same 
345 


George  Meredith 

time  he  arranges  to  fight  a  duel  with  Mr. 
Morsfield.  But  his  repentance,  like  that  of 
Lord  Fleet  wood  in  "  The  Amazing  Marriage," 
comes  too  late.*  Weyburn  goes  to  say  good- 
bye to  her  before  leaving  for  Switzerland,  and 
she  realises  that  she  must  make  a  leap  in  the 
dark ;  at  any  cost  she  must  be  clear  of  her 
husband  :  she  returns  the  jewels  to  Lord 
Ormont,  takes  farewell  of  him  by  letter,  and 
leaves  his  house  to  stay  with  her  friends  the 
Collet ts.  Weyburn  meets  her  there  by  a 
sheer  chance ;  the  two  are  surprised  into  a 
confession  of  their  mutual  love,  and  they 
resolve  to  elope  to  Switzerland.  "We 
commit  this  indiscretion,"  Weyburn  tells  her 
frankly,  "  with  a  world  against  us,  our  love 
and  labour  are  constantly  on  trial ;  we  must 
have  great  hearts,  and  if  the  world  is  hostile 
we  are  not  to  blame  it.  My  own  soul,  we 
have  to  see  that  we  do — though  not  publicly, 
not  insolently,  offend  good  citizenship.  But 
we  believe — I  with  my  whole  faith,  and  I  may 
say  it  of  you — that  we  are  not  offending 
Divine  law."  They  start  the  school  near 

*  "  He  said  of  hi*  country:  That  Lout  come*  to  •  knowledge  of  his  want* 
too  late.  But  what  if  his  words  were  flung  at  him  in  turn  P  Short  of  'Lout. ' 
it  rang  correctly  "  (ch.  ax). 

346 


Lord  Ormont  and  His  Aminta 

Berne.  Seven  years  later,  Lord  Ormont,  who 
chances  to  visit  it,  places  his  grand-nephew 
there ;  he  retains  no  rancour  in  his  heart 
against  Weyburn,  and  he  magnanimously 
believes  in  the  purity  and  justice  of  Aminta. 
Six  months  later,  his  death  makes  it  possible 
for  the  pair  to  marry  one  another. 

The  novel,  like  more  than  one  of  Meredith's 
stories,  serves  to  illustrate  the  remark  of 
Payne  Knight,  which  Peacock  applied  to 
Shelley's  marriage,  that  "the  same  kind  of 
marriage  which  usually  ends  a  comedy  as 
usually  begins  a  tragedy."  Only,  Aminta  and 
Weyburn  end  in  bliss.  The  justification  of  their 
offence  against  the  conventions  of  the  world 
is  found  in  the  power,  conferred  on  them  by 
their  union,  "to  make  amends  to  ihe  world." 
They  realise  that  they  do  not  "go  together 
into  a  garden  of  roses."  They  unite  their 
lives  because  each  can  be  a  true  mate  to  the 
other  in  the  career  of  service*  opening  before 


*  Meredith,  in  eh.  v,  comment!  on  "  the  hardest  of  the  schoolmaster's 
tasks— away  fly  the  boys  in  sheaves.  After  his  toil  with  them,  to  instruct, 
restrain,  animate,  their  minds,  they  leave  him,  they  plunge  into  the  world 
and  are  tone.  To  sustain  his  belief  that  he  has  done  serviceable  work,  he 
must  be  sure  of  his  having  charged  them  with  good  matter."  This  faith 
and  faithfulness  in  sowing  is,  of  course,  the  dominant  thought  in  poems 
like  "  Seed-Time  "  and  "The  Question  Whither." 

347 


George  Meredith 

them,  whereas  Lord  Ormont  had  denied 
Aminta  any  comradeship  or  rights  in  the 
married  state,  till  her  mind  was  repressed  and 
her  spirits  deadened.  The  tragic  injustice  of 
the  marriage  was  checked,  Meredith  argues, 
by  the  courage  of  Aminta  and  her  lover. 
"  Hardly  blushing,  she  walks  on  into  the  new 
life  beside  him,  and  hears  him  say :  '  I  in  my 
way,  you  in  yours ;  we  are  equals,  the  stronger 
for  being  equals,'  and  she  quite  agrees,  and 
she  gives  him  the  fuller  heart  for  his  not  re- 
quiring her  to  be  absorbed — she  is  the  braver 
mate  for  him."  This  description  of  Meredith's 
ideal  for  a  wife,  which  occurs  in  the  sixteenth 
chapter,  tallies  with  his  other  definitions  in 
"Diana"  (ch.  xiv)  and  "The  Tragic  Com- 
edians" (ch.  vii)  as  well  as  elsewhere. 

Meredith  usually  prefers  to  take  an  only 
child  or  son  as  his  central  figure,  but  here,  as 
in  "The  Amazing  Marriage "  (and  to  a  lesser 
degree  in  "Evan  Harrington"  or  in  "Beau- 
champ's  Career,"  where  Renee  and  her 
brother  are  secondary  figures),  he  delineates 
brother  and  sister.*  Lord  Ormont  and  his 


*  Compare  the  paiuge  on  the  love  of  brother  «nd  filter  in  eh.  xzi  with 
George  Bliot't  poem  "  Brother  and  Sitter." 

348 


Lord  Ormont  and  His  Aminta 

sister  are  quite  the  most  vital  characters  in 
the  story.  Lady  Charlotte  Eglett  is  one  of 
Meredith's  cleverest  studies  in  the  middle- 
aged  aristocratic  lady;  she  has  a  stinging 
tongue,  intense  family  affection,  Tory 
prejudices,  and  a  keen  brain.  Like  Lady 
Jocelyn,  in  "Evan  Harrington,"  she  loves  to 
read  Memoirs,  and  she  is  much  stronger  than 
her  husband.  "They  were  excellent  friends. 
Few  couples  can  say  more."  The  foil  to  her 
is  Mrs.  Nargett  Pagnell,  the  vulgar,  scheming 
widow  of  a  solicitor,  who  has  the  social 
ambition  of  a  feminine  snob  and  "a  tongue," 
as  Lady  Charlotte  remarked,  "that  goes  like 
the  reel  of  a  rod,  with  a  pike  bolting  out  of 
the  shallows  to  the  snag  he  knows  —  to 
wind  round  it  and  defy  you  to  pull."  She 
engages  in  a  game  of  Pull  with  Lord 
Ormont,  using  his  wife  as  a  lever,  and 
repeatedly  exasperating  the  husband  by  her 
offensive  intrigues.  Her  influence  on  him 
resembles  that  exerted  by  Harriet's  sister 
upon  Shelley  ;  it  involves  the  innocent  wife 
in  the  repugnance  of  the  husband  for  her 
relatives.  At  the  same  time,  it  must  be 
allowed  that  Aminta's  toleration  of  her  aunt 
349 


George  Meredith 

is  a  weak  point  in  the  story,  or  at  least  in 
her  character. 

Pride  is  more  conspicuous  than  sentiment- 
alism  in  the  plot.  Aminta's  error  lay 
partially  in  her  undisciplined  and  sentimen- 
tal passion  for  this  modern  Coriolanus, 
but  in  her  and  in  her  husband  the  right 
and  the  wrong  sort  of  pride  are  dominant.* 
Pride,  in  its  particular  form  of  underbred 
social  ambition,  is  represented  by  Mrs. 
Pagnell,  who  makes  nearly  the  same  kind 
of  mischief  by  her  attempt  to  excite  Lord 
Ormont's  jealousy  and  force  his  hand  as 
the  Countess  de  Saldar  in  "  Evan  Har- 
rington." 

Besides  several  bits  of  impressionism, 
aptly  thrown  in,  there  are  three  capital 
passages  of  descriptive  narrative:  the  ride 
behind  a  postillion  back  from  Steignton  (ch. 
xviii — xx),  which  recalls  the  well-known  ride 
in  "  Diana  of  the  Grossways"  (ch.  xi)  ;  the 


*  In  ch.  ix  the  English  capacity  for  taking  a  licking  well  it  praised,  a*  in 
''The  Egoist  "  (ch-ix)  ;  the  same  chapter  contains  Weyburn's  criticism  of 
Lord  Ormont's  sore  temper  as  "a  curmudgeonly,  humping  solitariness, 
that  won't  forgire  an  injury,  nurses  rancour,  smacks  itself  in  the  face, 
because  it  can 't — to  use  the  old  schoolboy  worus — take  a  licking  1  " 

350 


Lord  Ormont  and  His  Aminta 

day  on  the  Thames  *  (ch.  xxiv) ;  and  the 
swimming-scene  or  marine  duet  in  ch.  xxvii. 
The  school-scenes  t  are  not  inferior  to  those 
in  "The  Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond," 
though  their  scale  is  smaller,  but  nothing  in 
that  novel  surpasses  the  incisive  analysis, 
given  by  Weyburn  to  Lady  Eglett,  of  "  men 
of  brains"  and  "men  of  aptitude  "  (ch.  xiii) — 
a  caustic  and  penetrating  piece  of  psycho- 
logical discernment.  Among  the  minor 
characters,  the  Anglican  clergyman  gets  the 
same  hard  knocks  as  his  fellows  in  "The 
Adventures  of  Harry  Richmond  "  and  "  One 

*  A  poetical  sketch  of  this  scenery  was  drawn  in  one  of  the  pastorals  in 
the  first  volume  of  his  poerr.s.  Compare  especially  these  hexameters,  which 
Kingsley  singled  out  for  praise  :— 

"  O  joy  thus  to  revel  all  day  in  the  grass  of  our  own  beloved  country ; 
Revel  all  day  till  the  lark  mounts  at  eve  with  his  sweet '  tirra-lirra,' 
Thrilling  delightfully.     See  on  the  river  the  slow  rippled  surface 
Shining:  the  slow  ripple  broadens  in  circles  ;  the  bright  surface 

smoothens.  .  .  . 

There  by  the  wet-mirror'd  osiers,  the  emerald  wing  of  the  kingfisher 
Flashes,  the  fish  in  his  beak !  There  the  dabchick  dived,  and  the  motion 
Lazily  undulates  all  thro*  the  tall  standing  army  of  rushes. 
O  joy  thus  to  revel  all  day,  till  the  twilight  turns  us  homeward ! 
Till  all  the  lingering,  deep-blooming  splendour  of  sunset  is  over. 
And  the  one  star  shines  mildly  in  mellowing  hues,  like  a  spirit 
Sent  to  assure  us  that  light  never  dieth,  tho'  day  is  now  buried." 
t  Boys,  however,  do  not  feel  as  they  are  said  to  feel  about  Browny  in 
ch.  i.     The  description  is  as  Meredithian  as  that  of  the  sailor's  feelings  in 
ch.  xxvi,  which   also  contains  one  of  the  few  lapses  into  Meredi  hese 
throughout  the  entire  novel — "the  unwonted  supper  in  them  withheld  an 
answer  to  the  intimidating  knock."     The  purport  of  this  cryptic  utter.  i:ce 
is  that  a  heavy  supper  made  them  sleep  soundly  in  the  morning. 

35. 


George  Meredith 

of  Our  Conquerors,"  while  Mrs.  Lawrence 
Finchley  and  the  circle  of  London  pleasure- 
lovers  are  painted  in  the  same  colours  as  their 
predecessors  in  "The  Ordeal  of  Richard 
Feverel." 

Lady  Eglett's  brief  appreciation  of  the 
Jewish  character,  in  ch.  xvi,  is  a  foil  to  the 
less  sympathetic  references  in  "The  Tragic 
Comedians  "  and  "  One  of  Our  Conquerors." 
The  eulogy  on  boxing  (in  ch.  iii)  tallies  with 
the  similar  allusions  in  "  Rhoda  Fleming," 
"One  of  Our  Conquerors,"  and  "The 
Amazing  Marriage." 


THE  AMAZING  MARRIAGE 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

HIS  rich  and  striking  novel,  the  last  which 
came  from  Meredith's  pen,  appeared  in 
1895,  about  the  same  time  as  "Jude  the 
Obscure,"  and  wits  of  the  day  suggested  that 
the  proper  titles  would  be  "The  Obscure 
Marriage  "and  "The  Amazing  Jude."  The 
criticism  was  more  clever  than  just.  There 
is  little  or  no  obscurity  about  the  motives  and 
results  of  the  marriage  between  Carinthia  and 
Lord  Fleetwood,  although  there  is  a  good  deal 
to  amaze  the  reader.  The  book  forms  a 
curious  contrast  to  "Lord  Ormont  and  his 
Aminta."  In  both  stories  the  heroine's  char- 
acter is  developed  through  ill-treatment  at 
her  husband's  hands  ;  but  instead  of  driving 
her  to  vice  or,  as  in  the  case  of  Aminta,  to 
elope  with  a  worthy  lover,  the  discipline  of 
injustice  matures  the  heroine  of  this  story 
within  her  legal  position.  She  refuses  to  live 
with  her  husband,  but  she  will  not  take 
355 


George  Meredith 

another  man.  Both  Carinthia  and  Aminta 
are  flung  on  the  world  ;  both,  on  Meredith's 
reading  of  their  lives,  are  of  equal  purity,  but 
they  differ  in  their  growth. 

The  book  is  an  account  of  the  amazing 
prelude  and  the  more  amazing  outcome  of 
the  marriage  between  Lord  Fleetwood  and 
Carinthia  Jane  Kirby.  The  main  facts  of  the 
•tory  are  as  follows. 

When  close  upon  his  seventieth  year, 
Captain  John  Peter  Avason  Kirby,  who  came 
of  old  Lincolnshire  stock  "and  claimed 
descent  from  a  chief  of  the  Danish  rovers," 
ran  off  openly  and  skilfully  with  the  Countess 
of  Cressett,  a  lovely  and  spirited  Irish  girl 
aged  twenty-three.  She  had  been  wooed 
rapidly  by  her  husband,  who  excelled  as  a 
four-in-hand  coachman.  But  as  "she  could 
not  always  be  on  the  top  of  a  coach,  which 
was  his  throne  of  happiness,"  the  young  couple 
fell  apart  after  a  year  of  matrimony.  Mean- 
while Captain  Kirby,  "  the  old  Buccaneer," 
"with  his  great  white  beard  and  hair — not  a 
lock  of  it  shed — and  his  bronze  lion-face," 
captivated  the  heart  of  the  Countess,  and  was 
in  turn  captivated  by  her.  Friendship  passed 
356 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

into  infatuation,  and  at  midnight  on  the  21st 
of  June,  the  sturdy  sailor  outwitted  the 
London  cavaliers  of  the  Countess  Fanny 
(so-called  from  a  popular  ballad  on  the 
subject),  who  eloped  with  her  hero  to  the 
Continent.  Lord  Cressett  took  his  wife's 
flight  philosophically.  "Ah!  Fan!"  was  all 
he  said,  "she  never  would  run  in  my  ribbons." 
He  declined  to  pursue  the  pair,  and  died  a 
fortnight  later,  having  fallen  from  his  coach- 
box in  a  fit.  Thereupon  the  Captain  and  his 
Countess  were  married  in  Switzerland, 
where  their  first  child  was  born  eleven 
months  afterwards ;  he  was  christened 
Chillon  Switzer  John  Kirby  after  his  birth- 
place and  his  father.  The  Captain  then 
settled  in  Carinthia,  on  the  borders  of  Styria, 
where  he  purchased  and  worked  a  mine  ; 
there  his  second  child,  the  heroine  of  this 
story,  was  born,  and  christened*  Carinthia 
Jane. 


*  "AH  novelists."  Scott  declares  in  the  preface  to  '  Ivanhoe.'  "have 
had  occasion  at  some  time  or  other  to  wish  with  Falstaff  that  they  knew 
where  a  commodity  of  good  names  was  to  be  had."  Meredith  was 
particularly  rich  and  happy  in  this  department.  The  geographical  names 
of  the  Kirbys  are  perhaps  among  his  least  successful  efforts,  but  the 
nomenclature  of  the  novel  does  not  show  any  dearth  of  inventiveness  or 
lapse  into  unreality  otherwise. 

357 


George  Meredith 

After  being  educated  in  England  and  serving 
a  term  in  the  German  army,  the  son  was  sent 
back  to  adopt  a  military  career  in  England, 
where  he  devoted  himself  to  explosive  inven- 
tions together  with  his  uncle  Lord  Levellier. 
The  separation  together  with  the  fear  of 
English  scandal  quenching  her  son's  love 
killed  his  mother  before  long,  and  a  week 
later  her  loyal  disconsolate  husband  followed 
her.  When  the  action  of  the  story  proper 
begins,  the  brother  and  sister,  aged  twenty- 
three  and  twenty-one  respectively,  are  leaving 
their  old  home  in  the  mountains  for  England, 
where  Chillon  had  determined  that  Garinthia 
should  live  under  the  guardianship  of  their 
uncle,  a  miserly  nobleman,  at  Lekkatts 
(popularly  known  as  "Leancats").  She  is 
described  as  a  girl  of  red-gold  hair,  rugged 
brows,  fine  physique  and  fair  education. 

Their  immediate  destination  is  Baden, 
where  Chillon  hopes  to  meet  his  lady-love, 
Miss  Henrietta  Fakenham,  only  daughter  of 
Commodore  Baldwin  Fakenham,  whose  elder 
brother  Curtis  had  been  an  unsuccessful  rival 
of  Captain  Kirby  in  wooing  the  Countess  of 
Cressett.  Henrietta  is  travelling  with  her 

358 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

ather  and  her  cousin  Livia.  The  latter,  a 
daughter  of  Curtis,  was  "the  young  widow  of 
Lord  Duffield  when  she  accepted  the  Earl  of 
Fleetwood,  and  was  his  third  countess,  and 
again  a  widow  at  eight-and-twenty."  The  Earl 
of  Fleetwood's  great  wealth,  due  to  a  previous 
marriage  (engineered  by  Captain  Kirby)  with 
a  Welsh  heiress,  had  passed  to  Livia's  step-son 
Russell,  the  Earl  of  Fleetwood,  who  is  the 
hero  of  the  story.  His  money  and  generosity 
enable  his  beautiful  young  step-mother  to 
gratify  a  passion  for  gambling,  which  she 
indulges  by  means  of  her  attendant  cavaliers. 
In  return  for  this,  as  well  as  with  a  view 
to  retaining  her  hold  of  the  capricious,  self- 
willed  Earl,  she  schemes  to  further  his  suit  to 
Henrietta,  in  pursuit  of  whom  the  young 
nobleman  is  now  travelling  on  the  Continent. 
Walking  over  the  mountains,  Chillon  and 
his  sister  overtake  and  render  some  aid  to  a 
young  English  tourist,  Gower  Woodseer,  an 
impressionable  lover  of  Nature  and  phrases, 
with  a  Bohemian  philosophy  curiously 
opposed  to  the  Dissenting  faith  of  his  Welsh 
father,  a  shoemaker  and  preacher  in  White- 
chapel.  Woodseer's  heart  is  divided  between 
359 


George  Meredith 

a  passion  for  mountains  and  a  thirst  for  style, 
and  when  he  and  Lord  Fleetwood  happen 
to  meet  some  days  later,  they  strike  up  a 
young  man's  friendship,  which  ends  in  the 
enthusiastic  young  nobleman  carrying  off  his 
plebeian  comrade  for  a  week's  walking-tour.* 
Their  admiration  of  the  picturesque  and 
mountainous  in  Nature  is  varied  by  discussions 
of  Carinthia  whom  (without  knowing  more 
than  her  name)  Woodseer  had  described  in  his 
note-book  as  "  a  beautiful  Gorgon — a  haggard 
Venus."  The  phrase  arrests  Lord  Fleet- 
wood's  fancy,  and,  with  a  sentimental  interest 
in  the  fair  unknown,  he  pictures  her  face  thus 
hinted.  It  haunts  him.  Even  the  phrase 
"Carinthia  Saint  and  Martyr"  catches  the 
very  man  who,  by  the  irony  of  events,  is  to  be 
the  agent  of  her  martyrdom.  From  Woodseer's 
hint  of  description  and  further  talk,  he 
conjures  up  the  vision  of  this  woman. 
"That's  a  face  high  over  beauty.  Just  to 
know  there  is  a  woman  like  her,  is  an  antidote." 
Lord  Fleetwood  prides  himself  on  his  know- 

"  This  passion  for  walking  was  characteristic  of  Meredith  himself.  He 
would  have  subscribed  with  heartiness,  in  all  likelihood,  to  the  spirit  of 
Nietzsche's  savin*  that  "  sedentary  application  is  the  .tin  aisinjt  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Only  thought,  won  by  walking  are  valuable." 

360 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

ledge  of  women,  and  at  once  rushes  off  to 
idealise  this  rock-like  heroine  of  his  friend's 
diary.  "  Tell  me  you  met  her,  you  saw  her. 
I  want  only  to  hear  she  lives,  she  is  in  the 
world."  Woodseer  fails  to  ascribe  this  senti- 
mental craving  to  its  true  source,  or  to 
diagnose  the  youthful  malady  of  "one  bitten 
by  the  serpent  of  love,  and  athirst  for  an 
image  of  the  sex  to  serve  for  the  cooling  herb." 
A  casual  remark  of  the  Earl  seems  to  show 
that  he  is  already  jealous  of  Henrietta  and 
(perhaps)  Chillon — "  Beautiful  women  com- 
pared to  roses  may  whirl  away  with  their 
handsome  dragoons  !  A  pang  from  them  is  a 
thing  to  be  ashamed  of!  And  there  are  men 
who  trot  about,  whining  with  it ! "  Anyhow, 
the  second-hand  vision  of  Carinthia  comes  at 
an  apt  psychological  moment  in  the  young 
inflammable  lord's  development,  although  he 
is  rather  damped  to  find  from  Woodseer  that 
she  is  a  woman,  not  a  mere  girl,  for,  like 
Sir  Willoughby  Patterne,  he  would  senti' 
mentally  exclude  the  world,  and  "  woman  " 
suggests  that  intrusive  object. 

The  two  strangely  yoked  comrades  finally 
join  Lord  Fleetwood's  party  at  Baden,  where 
361 


George  Meredith 

Woodseer  falls  under  the  spell  of  Livia,  dips 
into  what  his  father  terms  the  "spotty 
business  "  of  gaming,  and  has  to  tramp  home 
penniless  to  London. 

Meanwhile,  Henrietta  had  accompanied  her 
father  to  cavalry  manoeuvres  near  Garlsruhe. 
There  Chillon  and  Garinthia  find  her,  and  the 
former  leaves  for  England,  whilst  the  rest 
rejoin  the  Countess  Livia  at  Baden,  where 
Lord  Fleetwood  had  promised  Henrietta  to 
attend  a  ball  at  the  ducal  Schloss.  Unfortu- 
nately he  hears  of  Henrietta  having  escorted 
Chillon  part  of  the  road  on  his  departure  and 
having  returned  with  red  eyes  from  the 
farewell.  This  news  adds  fuel  to  the  Earl's 
displeasure  at  Miss  Fakenham.  Wounded  by 
her  coquettish  behaviour,  and  resenting  the 
poison  of  her  fascination,  he  proudly  with- 
draws from  the  sight  of  her  to  spend  the 
night  at  a  neigbouring  village.  The  next 
morning  he  accidentally  comes  upon  Carinthia 
(without  knowing  who  she  is)  stepping 
gracefully,  daringly,  and  nimbly  along  a 
horizontal  pine-stem  jutting  out  from  a 
mountain-precipice.  Ever  at  her  best  among 
the  mountains,  "where  the  cold  engraving  of 
362 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

her  face  became  a  picture  of  colour,"  the  girl 
appealed  instantly  to  Lord  Fleetwood's  sense 
of  the  picturesque  as  "a  noble  daughter  of 
the  woods.  Not  comparable  to  Henrietta  in 
feminine  beauty,  she  was  on  an  upper 
plateau,"  with  "a  savage  poignancy  in 
serenity "  stamped  on  her  face,  intrepid, 
individual,  full  of  character.  She  seemed  to 
him  akin  to  the  sort  of  Carinthia  which 
Woodseer  had  described;  and,  as  he  spent 
the  day  alone  among  the  woods,  "the  course 
of  the  poison  Henrietta  infused,  and  to  which 
it  disgraced  him  to  be  so  subject,"  was  more 
than  diverted  by  the  inner  contemplation  of 
this  girl.  A  single  glimpse  of  her  "raised 
him  out  of  his  grovelling  perturbations,  cooled 
and  strengthened  him." 

Still,  when  night  came,  to  the  ball  he  had 
to  go.  He  was  the  prisoner  of  his  word,  or  it 
suited  his  humour  to  think  so.  One  key  to 
his  character  and  conduct  is  repeatedly 
described  by  Meredith  as  a  proud  ambition 
never  to  go  back  from  a  promise.  It  is  the 
comic  element  in  his  nature,  and  from  it  the 
tragedy  oozes.  The  rarest  of  gentlemen 
on  this  point  of  honour,  and  punctilious  to 


George  Meredith 

ehivalry,  he  considered  himself  bound  by  his 
lightest  word,  no  matter  what  were  the  con- 
sequences. "  His  pride,"  as  Henrietta  said 
once,  "is  in  his  word,  and  supposing  he's  in 
love,  it 's  with  his  pride,  which  never  quits 
him."  Down  he  goes  therefore  to  fulfil  this 
distasteful  engagement  by  looking  in  for  a  few 
moments  at  the  Schloss.  Dis  aliter  uisum. 
At  the  castle  he  meets  Woodseer's  Carinthia, 
the  girl  he  had  seen  that  morning  in  the 
woods,  but  now  brilliant  in  the  glow  and 
glamour  of  her  first  ball.  During  their  third 
dance  he  pleads  imperiously  for  her  to  marry 
him,  and  is  accepted. 

This,  the  first  amazing  step  in  the  story  of 
an  amazing  marriage,  seems  at  first  sight 
abrupt  and  improbable.  Meredith,  as  usual, 
narrates  the  incident  indirectly,  putting  the 
whole  account  of  the  ball  into  a  letter  (ch.  xii) 
from  Henrietta  to  Ghillon.  But  he  has  not 
failed  to  suggest  motives  on  both  sides  for  the 
step,  and  these  become  visible,  if  not  very 
credible,  on  a  careful  perusal  of  the  novel. 

On  neither  side  is  love  the  primary  motive. 
Carinthia's  love  of  her  brother  and  desire  to 
relieve  him  of  the  burden  of  supporting  her 
364 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

had  already  turned  her  unselfish  innocent 
thoughts  to  matrimony  as  one  means  by 
which  she  might  further  his  prospects  and 
enable  him  to  marry  Henrietta.  On  their 
last  walk,  she  had  asked  in  distress  how  she 
could  avoid  burdening  him,  and  he  had 
lightly  replied,  "Marry,  and  be  a  blessing  to  a 
husband."  The  words  whispered  to  her  also 
of  a  possible  escape  from  her  avaricious 
uncle's  guardianship.  But,  conscious  of  her 
inadequate  physical  attractions  and  of  her  lack 
of  fortune,  she  feels  she  would  be  humbly 
grateful  to  "the  noble,  knightly  gentleman 
who  would  really  stoop  to  take  a  plain  girl  by 
the  hand."  To  this  sentimental  feeling  must 
be  added  her  scanty  previous  knowledge  of 
Lord  Fleetwood  as  a  lover  of  the  mountains 
and  a  rival  of  her  brother  in  Henrietta's 
love.  Before  ever  the  two  met,  the  woman 
had  dreamt  of  some  lordly,  attractive,  irre- 
sistible youth,  who  should  claim  rather 
than  supplicate  a  woman's  stricken  heart. 
Flushed  by  such  aims  and  expectations, 
romantic  or  otherwise,  Garinthia  was  ob- 
viously tinder  to  the  spark  flung  down  by 
the  young  earl's  impetuous  wooing.  She 
365 


George  Meredith 

yielded    to    him,  gravely,   irrevocably,   and 
with  all  he*  soul. 

Upon  his  side  the  motives  appear  to  have 
been  more  complex ;  they  were  so  elusive  that 
they  characterise  his  action  as  a  sudden  freak. 
His  restless  eyes  indicated  an  ill-regulated 
spirit,  capable  of  sudden  shifts  under  any 
stress  of  passion.  He  had  come  to  the  ball 
smarting  under  a  sense  of  injury  at  Henrietta's 
coquetry,  which  humiliated  his  pride.  He 
found  there  the  fair  unknown,  whom  he  had 
ardently  discussed  with  Woodseer  and  subse- 
quently seen  with  his  own  admiring  eyes.  He 
saw  her,  too,  in  a  fresh  and  brilliant  aspect, 
irradiated  with  "the  something  above 
beauty" — to  quote  Henrietta's  letter — "more 
unique  and  impressive — like  the  Alpine  snow- 
cloak  towering  up  from  the  flowery  slopes." 
Thus  the  rebound  of  wounded  jealous  pride 
was  caught  upon  the  vision  of  this  brilliant, 
stedfast  creature,  who  satisfied  "his  passion 
for  the  wondrous  in  the  look  of  a  woman's 
face"  and  was  innocent  of  shifty  dealings  with 
mankind.  The  mad  impulse  of  his  proposal 
was  consonant  with  the  erratic,  splendid 
character  of  an  aristocratic  dragon-fly,  who 
366 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

had  inherited  Celtic  sentimentality  as  well  as 
a  strain  of  eccentricity  from  his  mother,  and 
whilst  the  quixotic  circumstances  of  his 
engagement  roused  astonishment  and  con- 
sternation in  his  own  circle  and  beyond  it, 
they  were  not  wholly  inexplicable  to  those 
who  were  familiar  with  his  overbearing, 
impulsive  disposition. 

Amazement  followed  amazement.  The 
next  morning,  Lord  Fleetwood  disappeared 
without  a  word  to  anyone.  Reflection  had 
brought  him  the  intolerable  sense  of  being 
now  in  bondage.  "Prone  to  admire  and 
bend  the  knee  when  he  admired,  he  chafed 
at  subjection,  unless  he  had  the  particular 
spell  constantly  renewed."  His  pride  resented 
any  encroachment  on  its  freedom,  for  that 
threatened  to  interfere  with  his  ambition  to 
lead  others,  and  in  a  black  fit  of  re-action 
he  became  desperate,  even  relentless  and 
unscrupulous,  in  the  attempt  to  get  quit  of 
this  girl  of  poor  birth  who  had — he  perversely 
imagined — ensnared  his  word  and  captured 
him  by  some  illusion  of  the  senses.  He  made 
off  for  Wales,  "supposing,  as  he  well  might, 
that  his  latest  mad  freak  of  the  proposal  of 
367 


George  Meredith 

his  hand  and  title  to  the  strange  girl  in  a 
quadrille  at  a  foreign  castle"  would  presently 
be  forgotten  by  her,  when  nothing  more  was 
said  about  it.  In  the  course  of  time  all  risk  of 
annoyance  on  the  subject  would  blow  over. 

Carinthia,  however,  was  built  otherwise ; 
as  we  know,  she  was  prepared  to  look  upon 
her  engagement  with  very  different  eyes. 
Lord  Fleetwood's  disappearance  and  silence 
were  accepted  by  her  quietly  as  part  and 
parcel  of  the  whole  strange  affair.  Crossing 
to  England,  she  stayed  two  months  with 
Admiral  Fakenham  in  Hampshire,  "patiently 
expecting  and  rebuking  the  unmaidenliness  of 
her  expectations,  as  honest  young  women  in 
her  position  used  to  do."  Her  humble 
gratitude  for  being  chosen  at  all  by  a  husband 
kept  her  still  unsuspicious  of  any  estrange- 
ment or  foul  play  on  his  part. 

Meanwhile,  to  protect  her  reputation  and 
interests,  or  to  save  himself  from  the  cost  of 
maintaining  her,  Lord  Levellier  put  himself 
into  action.  He  surprised  Lord  Fleetwood, 
who  had  returned  to  London,  imagining  he 
had  done  penance  for  his  impulsiveness  and 
got  rid  of  his  fetters.  A  message  was  wrung 

368 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

from  him  to  the  effect  that  although  "not 
particularly  fitted  for  the  married  state,"  he 
asked  Carinthia  whether  it  was  her  wish  that 
he  should  marry  her.  The  first  warning  clause 
of  the  communication  never  reached  Carin- 
thia. Her  answer  would  have  been  the  same, 
says  Meredith,  even  had  she  heard  it.  But 
she  did  not  get  her  odd  lover's  preliminary 
warning,  perhaps  because  it  was  suppressed 
by  the  miserly  Lord  Levellier  who  was  inter- 
ested in  getting  his  niece  married  to  a  wealthy 
husband,  or  because  Chillon  and  Henrietta, 
by  a  sort  of  half-innocent  intrigue,  omitted  to 
repeat  it,  in  the  hope  that  her  marriage  would 
promote,  as  it  did  promote,  their  own  engage- 
ment and  marriage.  Chillon,  at  any  rate, 
blamed  himself  afterwards  for  the  curtailed 
version  of  the  reluctant  bridegroom's  message. 
Neither  he  nor  Henrietta,  both  of  whom  knew 
Lord  Fleetwood's  character,  took  the  respon- 
sibility of  standing  out  against  the  marriage. 
It  suited  their  own  scheme  excellently  when 
Carinthia  replied  simply  and  directly  to  the 
Earl's  question,  "Oh,  I  will,  I  am  ready,  tell 
him."  The  intriguing  Livia  persuades  her  to 
refrain  from  either  writing  or  worrying  him 
x  369 


George  Meredith 

for  a  fulfilment  of  his  promise.  But  piqued 
at  the  marriage  of  Chillon  and  Henrietta,  he 
at  last  yields  to  the  dunning  demands  of  Lord 
Levellier  by  despatching  the  following  insolent 
note  written  on  the  tenth  of  the  month: — 
"My  Lord  :  I  drive  to  your  church-door  on 
the  fourteenth  of  the  month  at  ten  a.m.,  to 
keep  my  appointment  with  Miss  G.  J.  Kirby, 
if  I  do  not  blunder  the  initials.  Your  Lord- 
ship's obedient  servant,  Fleet  wood."  Lord 
Levellier  transmits  the  peremptory  summons, 
but  not  the  letter,  to  Garinthia.  Three  days 
after  she  heard  it,  she  was  married  to  a  man 
to  whom  she  had  not  spoken  since  the  night 
of  their  sudden  engagement. 

As  Chillon  was  absent  on  his  honeymoon, 
and  Admiral  Fakenham  suddenly  prostrated 
with  a  fierce  attack  of  gout,  no  male  relative 
of  the  bride  was  present  to  witness  the 
amazing  marriage,  except  Lord  Levellier  who 
was  not  anxious  to  see  anything  strange  in  a 
bridegroom  appearing  at  the  altar  in  coaching 
costume.  For  with  delicate  consideration 
Lord  Fleetwood,  who  had  a  pugilist  inside  his 
carriage,  put  his  wife  on  the  box  and  drove 
her  forthwith  to  witness  a  prize-fight,  which 
370 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

he  had  pledged  himself  to  attend,  between  his 
protege,  Kit  Ines,  and  another  bruiser  patron- 
ised by  Lord  Brailstone.  The  day  resembled 
that  on  which  Carinthia  had  first  landed  in 
England  some  months  before  ;  it  was  wild, 
dark,  threatening,  and  with  this  auspicious 
setting  of  weather  and  occupation,  her  married 
life  began  under  a  cloud  of  the  noble  carl's 
black  spite  and  temper. 
"  Was  ever  woman  in  this  fashion  wooed? 
Was  ever  woman  in  this  fashion  won  ?  " 
If  the  prelude  to  the  marriage  was  amazing, 
its  consequences  are  more  amazing  still.  En 
route  to  the  prize-fight,  Lord  Fleetwood 
behaves  with  the  sullenness  and  insolence  of 
an  aristocrat  who  chooses  to  regard  himself 
as  cleverly  entrapped  into  matrimony  by  a 
scheming  girl  and  her  relatives.  The  bad 
stuff  in  his  character  rises  to  the  surface. 
Recollections  of  Baden  mock  him.  Having 
lost  Henrietta,  he  is  doubly  piqued  to  find 
himself  bound  for  life  to  the  sister  of  his 
successful  rival,  to  a  wife  whose  father  came 
of  no  creditable  stock.  By  the  irony  of  fate, 
he  is  tied  to  her  by  his  own  word.  "  He  was 
renowned  and  unrivalled  as  the  man  of 
371 


George  Meredith 

stainless  honour :  the  one  living  man  of  his 
word.  There  was  his  distinction  among  the 
herd.  .  .  But,  by  all  that  is  holy,  he  pays  for 
his  distinction."  And  dishonourably,  even 
brutally,  he  is  in  the  humour  to  make  the  girl 
pay  too,  by  treating  her  with  a  studied  cruelty 
of  speech  and  silence  which  springs  from  his 
devilish  enjoyment  of  the  irony  in  their 
situation.  His  own  idiocy,  or  what  he  chooses 
to  regard  as  such,  is  visited  upon  Carinthia. 
She  had  completed  her  crimes  by  failing  to 
appear  at  the  altar  in  the  same  radiant 
splendour  as  on  the  night  of  the  ball  at  Baden. 
And  his  lordship's  aggrieved  soul  resents  even 
her  natural  address,  "  My  husband."  It  was 
"a  manner  of  saying  '  my  fish ' "  !  Meanwhile 
poor  Carinthia  sits  beside  him,  hungry  to 
admire  and  trust,  for  all  her  self-possession. 
Innocent  of  intrigue,  she  recalls  him  as  he 
was  at  Baden,  and  feels  herself  "passionately 
grateful  for  humbleness  exalted,  virginly 
sensible  of  treasures  of  love  to  give."  She 
had  put  her  life  into  her  husband's  hands,  and 
was  content,  but  her  trust  is  quickly  and 
grimly  repaid.  After  the  prize-fight  (described 
in  Meredith's  best  manner),  at  which  Kit  Ines 
372 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

vanquishes  his  opponent,  my  lord  returns  with 
her  to  an  inn  where  he  heartlessly  leaves  her, 
driving  off  to  spend  the  evening  at  Ganleys 
with  his  own  set.  Had  he  not  pledged  his 
word  to  attend  this  ball  ?  A  Whitechapel  girl, 
Madge  Winch,  who  follows  the  fortunes  of 
Kit  Ines,  is  left  to  attend  Garinthia,  who  sits 
stunned  and  suffering  under  such  treatment 
yet  enduring  it  meekly.  '*  Pain  breathed  out 
of  her,  and  not  a  sign  of  pain  was  visible.** 
The  sympathy  and  admiration  of  Madge 
were  almost  her  only  consolation  on  her 
wedding-night. 

Almost ;  for  Lord  Fleetwood  was  impres- 
sionable and  had  his  moments  of  amorous 
weakness.  Driving  back  alone  after  midnight, 
he  climbed  by  a  ladder  to  her  window ;  when 
she  sprang  from  her  bed  to  defend  herself,  he 
saw  "the  look  of  steel  melting  into  the  bridal 
flower,"  as  she  recognised  her  husband  in  the 
intruder  and  received  him  with  passionate  joy. 
Yet  even  this  revelation  of  her  charms  failed 
to  move  him  from  his  pride  or  to  appease  the 
black  resentment  that  still  tore  him  away  from 
her.  "The  devil  in  him"  was  "  still  insatiate 
for  revenge  upon  her  who  held  him  to  his 
373 


George  Meredith 

word,"  and  after  this  midnight  hurried  visit 
he  disappeared.  He  tried  to  indemnify  himself 
for  the  yoke  of  marriage  by  making  his 
capturer  smart  still  more.  The  day  after  his 
marriage  he  was  in  the  House  of  Lords,  "and 
then  went  down  to  his  estates  in  Wales,  being 
an  excellent  holder  of  the  reins,  whether  on 
the  coach-box  or  over  the  cash-box."  While 
there,  he  ruminates  on  the  advisability  of 
following  a  suggestion  of  his  weak  young 
friend,  Lord  Feltre,  a  Roman  Catholic  peer 
whose  recipe  for  the  soul  entangled  by  women 
is  religion ;  monasticism  seems  to  offer  a 
possible,  honourable  escape  from  life-long 
bondage  to  the  "beautiful  Gorgon."  Woodseer 
had  once  said  it  was  a  question  of  the  man  or 
the  monk  with  him,  and  that,  unless  he  chose 
to  treat  women  frankly  as  part  of  the  Nature 
whom  he  pretended  to  love,  instead  of 
cynically  viewing  them  as  temptresses  or 
victims  of  the  male,  he  was  on  the  straight 
road  to  a  cowl.  Lord  Fleetwood,  in  his  fresh 
dilemma,  dallies  with  the  latter  course.  But 
the  mood  is  only  a  passing  fit. 

Meantime  this  mess  ot  a  marriage  had  had 
its  effects  upon  Garinthia.     She  walked  to  the 
374 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

Earl's  Kentish  seat,  Esslemont,  but  failed  to 
find  him.  After  staying  on  till  her  heart  was 
broken,  she  resolved  to  leave  the  inn,  where 
Lord  Fleetwood  had  ordered  all  her  expenses 
to  be  paid,  although  he  left  her  penniless. 
Walking  part  of  the  way,  she  came  to  London 
with  her  loyal  humble  friend,  Madge  Winch, 
and  lodged  in  Whitechapel  with  the  latter*s 
sister  in  a  greengrocer's  shop.  There  she  is 
found  by  Gower  Woodseer,  whose  father  is 
acquainted  with  the  Winches.  Gower  is 
is  despatched  to  inform  Admiral  Fakenham, 
whose  gout  alone  prevents  him  from  executing 
his  wrathful  purpose  of  rising  to  champion  his 
injured  favourite  in  London.  A  letter  is 
written  by  the  Admiral  to  Lady  Arpington, 
whose  mother  had  known  Countess  Fanny, 
begging  her  to  give  temporary  shelter  to 
Garinthia  ;  but  this  missive  is  wiled  out  of 
Woodseer's  hands  by  Livia.  The  Admiral's 
death,  however,  sets  the  youth  free,  and  he 
informs  Lady  Arpington  of  all  that  has  trans- 
pired. She  hotly  summons  the  Earl,  who  is 
a  connection  of  her  own.  He  has  just  returned 
to  London,  "  disposed  for  marital  humaneness 
and  jog-trot  harmony,  by  condescension." 

375 


George  Meredith 

Since  his  marriage,  as  he  is  forced  to  admit, 
his  black  devil  had  been  partly  exorcised. 
His  memory  of  her  charm  at  the  midnight 
interview  inclines  him  to  think  her  love  must 
be  sincere.  Impressed  with  these  better 
feelings  of  tolerance  and  magnanimity,  he  goes 
to  his  interview  with  Lady  Arpington,  rather 
inclined  to  relent  and  take  up  his  wife  again, 
but  in  no  sense  ashamed  or  sorry  for  his  past 
conduct.  And  it  is  this  false  pride  which 
again  thwarts  his  better  purposes.  For  under- 
neath these  lay  a  desire  to  find  "solace  for 
the  hurt  to  his  pride  in  spreading  a  snare  for 
the  beautiful  Henrietta,"  by  using  his  money 
to  work  upon  her  love  of  luxury  and  music. 
If  he  succeeded  with  this  butterfly  of  a  Riette, 
it  would  appease  his  wrath  at  her  for  having 
refused  him  and  also  tied  him  to  Carinthia; 
besides,  her  weak  conduct  would  justify  his 
lordship's  contempt  for  her  and  show  him 
what  a  fine  fate  he  had  escaped  in  an  alliance 
with  her.  He  was  moved  by  jealousy  and 
vindictiveness  and  selfishness,  not  love.  All 
he  wanted  was  to  know  she  was  purchasable, 
not  to  possess  or  taste  her  fascinations  for 
himself  again.  The  mere  proof  that  she  was 
376 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

accessible  to  seduction,  would  "release  him 
from  vile  subjection  to  one  of  the  female  heap," 
and  by  this  sacrifice  or  (at  least)  this  crucial 
temptation  of  the  coquette  his  lordship's  blood 
would  be  washed  clean  of  her  image.  By 
means  of  this  "formless  plot,"  with  "a  shade 
of  the  devilish  in  it,  he  acknowledged,"  he 
would  be  able  to  despise  Henrietta  and  so  to 
crush  out  the  sparks  which  she  had  kindled 
in  his  inflammable  soul,  and  which  he  angrily 
found  himself  unable  otherwise  to  quench. 
Besides,  it  would  be  a  blow  struck  at  Ghillon, 
his  successful  rival,  and  through  him  at 
Carinthia.  The  malice  of  the  scheme  was 
only  a  degree  worse  than  that  which  had 
made  him  lure  Woodseer  to  gamble  at  Baden. 
This  pleasant  intrigue  had  fallen  into 
abeyance  during  his  temporary  residence  with 
Lord  Feltre.  But  it  is  roused,  and  with  it  the 
eccentric  aristocrat's  dogged  pride,  by  Lady 
Arpington's  reproaches  and  report.  His 
tender  sensibilities  are  rudely  irritated  by 
the  news  of  poor  Garinthia's  flight  to  White- 
chapel.  The  man  becomes  iron  and  ice  at 
once.  Entirely  ignoring  the  position  in  which 
his  own  conduct  had  left  her,  he  chooses  to 
377 


George  Meredith 

resent  her  action  as  a  personal  insult,  which 
he  interprets  as  a  clever  stroke  at  himself;  to 
his  cynical  theory  of  women,  it  seems  "a 
move  worthy  the  daughter  of  the  old 
Buccaneer,"  crafty  and  deliberate.  Conse- 
quently, he  refuses  all  intercourse  with  her, 
and  the  epithet  "Countess  of  Whitechapel," 
with  which  London  gossip  and  ridicule 
decorated  her,  is  set  down  by  his  wounded 
pride  as  a  fresh  dart  of  the  enemy.*  He 
sullenly  remains  in  the  West-End,  occasionally 
visited  by  his  good  genius,  Gower  Woodseer. 
For  he  is  his  own  lago.  Carinthia  never  gives 
him  occasion  to  be  jealous.  She  resists  the 
entreaties  of  Chillon  and  Henrietta,  and  stays 
on  in  her  Whitechapel  obscurity,  tending  the 
poor.  She  will  not  accept  the  Earl's  offer  of 
his  country-seat  Esslemont.  Her  one  desire 
and  claim  of  love  is  to  meet  him.  Hearing 
through  Kit  Ines  that  his  lordship  and  party 
are  to  visit  Vauxhall  Gardens  one  evening  in 
June,  Madge  takes  her  mistress  there,  and  in 
the  midst  of  a  disturbance  Carinthia  commits 
the  mortal  offence  of  coming  coolly  to  her 

*  His  resentment  reminds  one  of  the  French  naturalist  who  described 
•  certain  animal  as  "tres  michant,— qnand  on  1'attaque.  il  se  defend." 

378 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

husband's  assistance  with  a  stick.  This  is  an 
unpardonable  outrage  to  his  dignity  !  He  sees 
this  malignant  woman  pestering  him  with 
unwelcome  attentions,  thwarting  and  goading 
him  perpetually,  posing  as  "a  demoiselle 
Moll  Flanders,"  and  covering  her  liege  lord 
with  derision  and  ridicule  before  the  world. 
He  chooses  to  think  that  she  is  persecuting 
him.  Then,  being  a  man  of  quick  temper  and 
few  scruples,  he  makes  a  wanton  reprisal  for 
this  imaginary  insult  by  employing  his  prize- 
fighter to  kidnap  Madge  and  Carinthia. 
Thanks  to  the  former  and  Gower  Woodseer, 
Carinthia  escapes  from  her  suburban  villa 
next  morning.  Accompanied  by  Gower,  she 
manages  to  reach  her  husband's  town-house  ; 
but  finding  her  there  on  his  return  from  a 
morning-ride,  he  withdraws  haughtily  to  a 
neighbouring  hotel,  still  refusing  a  personal 
interview  to  the  lady  who  bore  his  title.  His 
"erratic,  if  not  mad,  and  in  any  case  ugly, 
conduct"  becomes  now  a  mixture  of  fast 
living  and  sentimental  philandering  with 
Catholicism  ;  while  Carinthia,  who  has 
Henrietta  to  live  with  her  and  frequent 
visits  from  Woodseer  to  enliven  her,  is 
379 


George  Meredith 

content  to  endure  for  a  time  this  dog's 
treatment  in  what  London  merrily  termed 
"the  Battle  of  the  Spouses." 

The  intolerable  strain  of  her  position  is 
relieved  by  a  journey  to  Wales,  for  which  his 
lordship  with  scrupulous  justice  provides  the 
money,  though  he  itill  refuses  her  a  shilling 
for  her  own  purse.  On  the  llth  of 
December,  she  gives  birth  to  a  son.  The 
news  of  this  reaches  her  husband  on  his 
return  from  a  yachting  cruise  with  Lord 
Feltre,  but  it  is  simply  a  grosser  offence  and 
irritation  to  his  smarting  dignity.  Again  the 
twisted  workings  of  his  pride  urge  him  to 
carry  on  his  plot  against  Henrietta.  Besides, 
the  absence  of  any  communication  from 
Carinthia  herself  is  surely  an  added  insult. 
"She  sulked!  after  besmutting  the  name 
she  had  niched  from  him,  she  let  him  under- 
stand that  there  was  no  intention  to  repent. 
Possibly  she  meant  war."  At  all  events,  "the 
crowd  of  his  grievances  with  the  woman 
rushed  pell-mell,  deluging  young  shoots  of 
sweeter  feelings"  in  his  petulant,  egotistic 
soul.  Yet  one  symptom  of  sanity  appears 
in  his  generosity  to  Sarah  Winch,  Madge's 
380 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

sister,  whom — out  of  gratitude  for  their  kind- 
ness to  Garinthia — the  eccentric  Croesus  sets 
up  in  a  Piccadilly  fruit-shop.  Indeed,  on 
further  reflection,  "he  grew  so  far  reconciled 
to  her  [Garinthia]  as  to  have  intimation  of  a 
softness  coming  on  "  ;  his  past  conduct,  "  so 
justifiable  then,  as  he  forced  himself  to  think," 
seemed  now  hideous.  But  his  pride  still 
prevents  him  from  seeing  all  his  past 
misdeeds  and  his  present  duty,  whilst 
Garinthia's  association  with  the  former  is 
actually  set  down  to  her  discredit. 

Meanwhile  Garinthia  also  had  slowly 
awakened.  She  is  convinced  that  her  husband 
hated  her  ;  otherwise  his  conduct  is  inexplic- 
able. The  birth  of  her  child  naturally  roused 
a  new  sense  of  dread  and  antagonism,  since 
both  child  and  mother  would  now  be  "under 
perpetual  menace  from  an  unscrupulous 
tyrannical  man."  For  herself,  Garinthia 
cared  little  now.  "Sure  of  her  rectitude, 
a  stranger  to  the  world,  she  was  not  very 
sensible  of  dishonour  done  to  her  name." 
But  on  behalf  of  her  child  and  her  brother, 
who  now  absorb  all  her  affection,  she  would 
welcome  a  treaty  of  peace  with  Lord  Fleet- 
381 


George  Meredith 

wood.  "I  am  spared  loving  him  when  I 
forgive  him  ;  and  I  do.  The  loving  is  the 
pain.  That  is  gone  by."  When  a  strike 
among  the  miners  induces  Lord  Fleetwood 
to  send  down  Kit  Ines  to  protect  Garinthia 
and  her  child,  she,  mindful  of  a  former 
experience,  fears  this  is  an  attempt  to  kidnap 
the  child,  and  so  withdraws  to  the  house 
of  a  neighbouring  mine-owner,  Mr.  Owain 
Wythan,  who  had  chanced  to  be  at  the  prize- 
fight on  her  wedding-day.  His  invalid  wife 
is  one  of  her  staunchest  friends,  and  to  him 
Carinthia  is  "Morgana  le  Fay  Christianised."* 
Gower  Woodseer,  to  whom  his  lordship  has 
become  reconciled,  is  then  despatched  to 
persuade  her  to  withdraw  from  Wales  to 
Esslemont  But  his  errand  is  in  vain. 
Designs  upon  the  child  are  still  suspected, 
and  Gower  remains  to  fall  in  love  with 


*  The  subtle  point  of  this  allusion  (oh.  xxix)  is  that  in  Boiardo's 
"  Orlando  Innamorato  "  the  beautiful  and  enchanting  Morgana  punishes 
Orlando,  who  has  failed  to  seize  his  opportunity,  by  eluding  for  a  while  his 
pursuit ;  in  his  quest  of  her,  he  is  scourged  by  "  La  Penitenza,"  and 
warned  against  carelessly  losing  his  prize  even  when  he  has  secured  it. 
The  relevant  passages  are  worked  into  the  plot  of  Peacock's  "  Gryll 
Grange  "  (chs.  xz— xxiv)  ;  already  in  "Beauchamp's  Career"  Meredith 
had  referred  to  Boiardo  and  his  later  adapter,  Berni.  To  Owain, 
the  relations  of  Carinthia  and  Lord  Fleetwood  seem  to  resemble  those  of 
Morgana  and  her  tardily  awakened  lover. 

382 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

Madge  and  see  "the  priceless  woman  whom 
Lord  Fleetwood  could  call  wife  fast  slipping 
away  from  him. "  Despite  his  stiff  reluctance 
to  meet  her,  the  Earl  at  last  arrives,  partly 
to  settle  the  strike,  partly  through  a  cold 
curiosity  to  see  his  child  or  rather  "  the  male 
infant  of  such  a  mother,"  partly  through  an 
irrepressible  feeling  of  attraction  for  Garinthia 
which  he  is  puzzled  and  half-ashamed  to  own. 
She  is  at  least  unique,  he  confesses,  and  "the 
wealthy  young  nobleman  prized  any  form  of 
rareness  wherever  it  was  visible."  Possibly 
even  she  had  something  to  forgive,  he  admits. 
But  certainly,  he  recollects,  his  injustice  to  her 
is  more  excusable  than  the  grotesque  ridicule 
with  which  she  had  covered  them  both. 

Apologising  thus  for  himself,  and  making 
his  very  imperfect  penitence  a  means  of 
securing  his  dignity  and  pleasure,  the  Earl  is 
disgusted  to  find  himself  actually  suspected  of 
designs  upon  the  child.  Garinthia's  suspicions 
— for  she  had  never  complained  or  con- 
descended to  speak  of  injuries — are  a  new 
outrage  to  his  pride-  Her  absence  from  the 
castle  is  construed  as  a  personal  insult. 
Hence,  in  spite  of  some  plain-speaking  from 
383 


George  Meredith 

Gower,  he  refuses  to  see  her  and  prepares  for 
instant  departure.  "Capable  of  villainy  as  of 
nobility,"  he  swings  back  to  the  former. 
When  Carinthia  calmly  ("  like  a  lance  in  air") 
appears  next  day  with  her  child  to  bid  him 
farewell  and  consult  him  on  the  boy's  name, 
he  curtly  rejects  her  appeal  for  an  allowance 
of  money,  orders  her  to  live  at  Esslemont, 
and  looks  at  her  child  as  hastily  as  he  would 
kick  a  stone  in  his  path.  The  climax  of  her 
offence  is  furnished  by  her  bravery  in 
protecting  him,  at  the  risk  of  her  own  life, 
from  a  mad  dog,  and  by  her  fruitless  attempt 
to  persuade  a  Welsh  mother  to  have  her 
bitten  child  cauterised.  Her  courage  made 
him  feel  small  and  eclipsed,  even  while  he 
was  forced  to  admit  her  coolness.  Yet 
"courage  to  grapple  with  his  pride  and  open 
his  heart  was  wanting  in  him."  Assuming  a 
lordly  indifference,  though  he  secretly  felt 
obscured  and  was  wrathful  alike  at  the  feeling 
and  at  the  woman  who  stirred  it,  the  Earl 
drove  away  to  rejoin  his  yachting  party  at 
Cardiff.  Again  his  warmer  feelings  of  admira- 
tion and  respect  for  Carinthia — for  unlike 
Othello  he  has  stray  thoughts  that  ebb  back 

384 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

to  love — had  been  chilled  by  his  proud  dread 
of  subjection  and  the  disappointment  to  his 
hope  of  finding  her  gratefully  submissive  to 
his  superior  authority. 

Two  months  later,  Rebecca  Wythan's  death 
sets  Carinthia  free  to  journey  South  to 
Esslemont.  But  this  act  of  tardy  submission 
is  a  source  of  fresh  irritation  to  her  husband. 
In  her  honour,  and  to  prevent  any  risk  of  the 
child  being  kidnapped,  nine  Welsh  gentlemen, 
headed  by  Mr.  Wythan,  act  as  her  escort  to 
Kent,  a  proceeding  which  the  Earl  wrath- 
fully  regards  as  pantomimic  and  gratuitous. 
(Meredith  introduces  at  this  point  a 
characteristically  Rabelaisian  account  of  a 
drinking-bout,  ch.  xxxiv.)  He  suspects  her 
of  trying  to  dominate  him  or  to  make  him 
ridiculous,  and  he  will  not  listen  to  Woodseer's 
explanation  that  her  dread  of  the  child  being 
kidnapped  is  physiologically  due  to  her  own 
capture  and  imprisonment  during  her  preg- 
nancy. Exasperation  irrationally  drives  him 
once  more  to  the  device  of  perverting 
Henrietta  and  feeding  on  her  humiliation, 
while  he  also  lets  Kit  Ines  use  foul  play  in 
order  to  prevent  Ghillon  winning  a  wager  at 

385 


George  Meredith 

athletics.  Ghillon  had  undertaken  the  wager 
to  get  money,  and  it  was  to  help  her  brother 
that  Garinthia  really  wished  an  allowance 
from  her  husband.  Thus  by  stinting  her  and 
cheating  him,  he  imagined  his  revenge 
complete.  But  Carinthia  has  well-founded 
suspicions  of  his  treachery  in  regard  to 
Chillon  ;  and  when  he  goes  down  to  visit  her 
for  the  first  time  at  Esslemont,  his  reception 
is  as  chilly  as  the  March  day  on  which  they 
meet.  When  he  arrives,  she  is  absent  at 
Croridge  on  a  visit  to  her  brother,  who  has 
been  forced  to  sell  out  of  the  army  for  money 
to  pay  his  debts  and  support  Henrietta.  When 
she  does  appear,  it  is  with  Mr.  Wythan,  whom 
(at  his  wife's  dying  request)  she  calls  by  his 
first  name.  Her  own  term  for  himself,  "my 
lord,"  is  a  rude  change  from  the  earlier 
*'my  husband,"  which  he  had  once  resented, 
and  which,  since  his  conduct  in  London,  she 
had  finally  dropped.  He  makes  a  weak 
attempt,  not  to  apologise,  but  to  regain  his 
hold  of  her,  but  his  tardy  offer  of  money  is 
now  rejected,  since  Chillon's  need  for  it 
(thanks  to  his  own  intrigue)  is  gone.  Lastly, 
his  proposal  to  spend  the  night  is  met  by  the 
386 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

blunt,  defensive,  significant  phrase,  "I  guard 
my  rooms."  The  moody  young  earl  drives 
away,  divided  between  respect  for  the 
strength  of  character  which  extorted  his 
reluctant  admiration,  and  furious  anger  at  her 
quiet  disdain  of  what  he  considers  to  have 
been  his  undeserved  generosity.  Respect 
on  the  whole  prevails.  By  an  ironic  accident, 
he  finds  himself  obliged  to  spend  the  night 
at  the  very  inn  where  he  had  abandoned 
Garinthia  on  her  honeymoon,  and  this  helps 
to  warn  the  fool  of  what  he  is  doing. 

Jealousy  of  Lord  Brailstone,  who  is  flirting 
with  Henrietta  in  his  absence,  almost  throws 
him  off  the  line  again.  But  he  is  steadied  by 
the  suicide  of  one  of  his  sycophants  or 
Ixionides  (as  Gower  termed  them)  through 
losses  at  gambling  and  a  penchant  for  Livia. 
In  a  fluctuation  of  passion,  he  resolves  to 
settle  the  latter  lady  with  a  handsome  income, 
conditional  on  her  marriage,  and  to  establish 
Carinthia  at  the  head  of  the  forthcoming 
entertainments  at  Galesford  which  he  had 
promised  to  give  in  honour  of  Henrietta. 
Woodseer  is  employed  as  the  envoy ;  but, 
while  he  manages  for  himself  to  win  Madge's 
387 


George  Meredith 

heart,  his  mission  to  Carinthia  is  a  failure. 
Apart  from  the  injuries  done  to  herself,  she 
cannot  forgive  Lord  Fleetwood  for  his 
treachery  to  her  brother.  Thus  at  last  the 
luckless  Earl  begins  to  see  that  "  there  's  not 
an  act  of  a  man's  life  lies  dead  behind  him,  but 
it  is  blessing  or  cursing  him  every  step  he 
takes."  Most  of  the  Earl's  acts,  in  his  ill- 
assorted  relationship  with  Carinthia,  are 
cursing  him  now.  Her  arctic,  courteous, 
dignified  behaviour  punishes  and  vexes  him 
cruelly.  His  own  appeals,  his  tardy  fits  of 
partial  penitence  ("I  was  possessed  !  sort  of 
were-wolf I"),  produce  no  impression,  for 
Carinthia  inherits  from  her  father  a  stern 
aversion  to  the  weakness  of  forgiving  an 
injury,  and  she  bluntly  tells  him  that  her 
heart  is  given  now  to  her  brother  and  her 
child.  By  a  strange  fatality,  they  part  at  the 
graveyard  of  the  church  in  which  they  had 
been  married.  She  turns  from  him,  promising 
to  honour  the  marriage-tie  and  yet  refusing 
any  further  relations  with  himself,  till  the 
Earl,  now  in  a  lover's  mood,  as  he  watches 
her  vanish,  fears  she  may  be  lost  to  him.  For 
his  egotistic  soul  is  distressed  rather  by  what 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

he  is  losing  in  her  than  by  what  she  has 
suffered  from  him. 

Yet  another  effort,  however,  he  will  make 
to  regain  her.  Thanks  to  the  varied  influences 
of  Lord  Feltre  and  Woodseer,  he  is  beginning 
to  waken  "  to  the  claims  of  others — youth's 
infant  conscience,"  and  actually  to  the  need 
and  duty  of  doing  some  penance  to  his  injured 
wife,  if  ever  he  is  to  be  clean  again  or  to 
win  back  her  affection.  He  is  haunted  by  the 
apposite  saying,  "half  of  our  funny  heathen 
lives  we  are  bent  double  to  gather  things  we 
have  tossed  away."  In  this  enterprise  of 
gathering  he  secures  an  interview  with 
Carinthia  and  Chillon.  The  latter,  thanks  to 
Lord  Fleetwood's  underhand  intrigue  at  the 
athletic  contest,  is  now  forced  to  gratify  his 
soldiering  instinct  by  taking  service  in  the 
English  contingent  of  the  Spanish  army,  and 
as  Carinthia,  who  prefers  to  accompany  him, 
is  in  any  case  indignant  at  the  treatment  of  her 
brother,  the  poor  Earl  thus  finds  himself  hoist 
by  his  own  petard.  His  attempts  to  apologise 
to  Carinthia  are  spoiled  by  two  flaws.  In 
the  first  place,  his  pride  will  not  stoop  to  that 
complete  exposure  of  himself  which  probably 
389 


George  Meredith 

would  have  stirred  brother  and  sister  to  some 
compassion.  He  feels  the  degradation  of 
confession  more  than  the  degradation  of  what 
has  to  be  confessed,  and  in  the  cowardice  of 
pride  he  hesitates  to  strip  himself  bare. 
Further,  his  intercourse  with  Lord  Feltre 
had  fostered  the  sentimental  delusion  that  such 
extreme  penitential  acts  are  due  from  men  to 
the  priest  only.  With  his  ethical  sense  thus 
impaired,  he  naturally  fails  to  persuade 
Carinthia  and  Chillon  of  his  sincerity  ;  he  is 
quietly  tried,  judged,  and  put  aside,  after  a 
tardy  and  imperfect  disavowal  of  his  pride. 
Unaware  of  any  conflict,  Garinthia  wrestled 
with  him,  "flung  him,  pitied  him,  and  passed 
on  along  her  path  elsewhere." 

Thereupon  Lord  Fleetwood,  after  a 
rupture  with  Lord  Brailstone,  dallies  with 
the  alternative: — his  wife  or  Rome  (to  the 
consternation  of  Protestant  society).  Having 
apparently  forfeited  his  manhood,  he  will  take 
refuge  in  monasticism.  Lord  Levellier's  death 
frees  Chillon  from  monetary  embarrassments, 
but  he  is  still  bent  on  Spain,  and  Carinthia  is 
divided  between  the  plan  of  accompanying 
him  and  the  duty  of  remaining  at  home  to  be 

390 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

with  the  weak,  flighty,  Henrietta,  who  will 
not  accompany  her  infatuated  and  indulgent 
husband  to  the  scene  of  war.  Chillon 
persuades  his  sister  to  remain,  hinting  at 
the  possibility  and  advisability  of  some  com- 
promise with  her  husband.  She  herself 
retains  some  slight  emotion  of  pity  for  the 
weak  young  nobleman.  But  in  their  final 
interview  his  pride  again  blinds  him  to  the 
fact  that  his  one  chance  lies  in  complete, 
immediate  confession,  and  in  confession  to 
Carinthia  instead  of  to  a  priest.  "  In  spite  of 
horror,  the  task  of  helping  to  wash  a  black 
soul  white  would  have  been  her  compensation 
for  loss  of  companionship  with  her  soldier 
brother.  She  would  have  held  hot  iron  to 
the  rabid  wound,  and  come  to  a  love  of  the 
rescued  sufferer."  Carinthia,  in  short,  was  in 
a  mood  melting  to  union  and  reconciliation 
with  her  husband.  But,  with  the  tactlessness 
of  pride,  he  failed  to  use  his  opportunity. 
Nor  did  he  get  another.  The  crisis  is  pre- 
cipitated by  an  outburst  of  jealous  passion  on 
Lord  Brailstone's  part,  which  suddenly  reveals 
to  Henrietta  Lord  Fleetwood's  previous 
intrigue  against  herself.  She  flies  to  her 
391 


George  Meredith 

sister-in-law  for  protection,  and  this  discovery 
of  her  husband's  additional  villainy  finally 
destroys  Carinthia's  inclination  towards  him. 
His  guilt  absolves  her  from  any  further  deal- 
ings with  him.  She  and  Henrietta  at  once 
proceed  to  Spain.  Returning  two  years  later, 
she  finds  that  Lord  Fleetwood  has  become  a 
Roman  Catholic  monk;  after  his  death,  she  ful- 
fils Rebecca  Wy than's  dying  wish  and  marries 
Owain,  who  thus,  like  the  staunch  Redworth, 
at  last  wins  the  rare  pearl  which  a  base  Indian, 
"richer  than  all  his  tribe, "had  flung  away  and 
tried,  when  it  was  too  late,  to  recover. 

Lord  Fleetwood  is  the  conventional  young 
man  of  society,  whose  wealth  makes  him 
think  he  can  buy  anything,  even  a  woman. 
Meredith  has  satirized  this  plutocratic  view 
of  life  in  "The  Empty  Purse,"  where  he 
attacks  the  aristocrat's  abuse  of  money  to 
indulge  his  passions. 
"  Thereanon  the  keen  passions  clapped  wing, 

Fixed  eye,  and  the  world  was  prey.  .  .  . 

And  O  the  grace  of  his  air, 

As  he  at  the  goblet  sips, 

A  centre  of  girdles  loosed, 

With  their  grisly  label,  sold." 
392 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

This  ideal  of  woman*  is  fostered  by  Fleet- 
wood's  experience  of  the  Countess  Li  via,  and 
the  cynical,  eccentric  peer  makes  the  mistake 
of  treating  Carinthia  as  one  of  the  crowd. 
Meredith  develops  this  favourite  theme  with 
gusto,  but  also  with  a  minuteness  and  a  wealth 
of  illustrationwhich  become  almostwearisome. 

The  scene  (in  ch.  xi)  in  which  Lord 
Fleetwood  first  sees  Carinthia  poised  daringly 
on  a  tree,  should  be  compared  with  the  similar 
scene,  of  which  it  is  evidently  a  reminiscence 
and  adaptation,  in  Peacock's  "Crotchet 
Castle"  (ch.  xviii),  where  also  the  lover's 
passion  is  kindled  by  his  first  glimpse  of  the 
self-possessed  heroine  (like  Carinthia,  a  lover 
of  the  mountains)  calmly  and  gracefully  seated 
on  a  tree  overhanging  a  cataract. 

The  Carlist  war  in  Spain,  referred  to  in 
ch.  xliii,  is  not  the  insurrection  of  Don  Carlos 
against  Queen  Christina  (1834—1840),  when 
a  British  corps  was  raised  by  Sir  De  Lacy 
Evans  and  other  soldiers  in  aid  of  her 
Majesty,  but  the  later  insurrection  by  General 


•  There  i*  •  prose  ver.ion  of  it  in  theSSth  chapter  of  "The  AdTentnw*  of 
Harry  Richmond  "  :  "  his  (i.e.  Heriot't)  talk  of  women  still  invested  the 
hawk  with  the  downy  feathers  of  the  last  little  plucked  bird  sticking  to 
hi*  beak." 

393 


George  Meredith 

O'Donnell  in  favour  of  the  Queen  during 
1841—1843,  which  centred  in  the  Pyrenees. 
As  Carinthia  left  for  Spain  with  Chillon  in 
the  year  after  her  child's  birth,  the  amazing 
marriage  cannot  therefore  have  been  much 
later  than  1839,  when  Chillon  was  twenty- 
four  years  of  age.  Reckoning  back  from  this 
we  reach  1814  as  the  time  when  Captain  Kirby 
eloped  with  his  Countess,  and  this  synchron- 
ises with  the  data  of  the  opening  chapter 
which  describes  the  presence  of  a  Russian 
Emperor  in  London,  after  a  long  period  of 
warfare.  It  was  in  the  early  summer  of  1814 
that  Alexander  I  of  Russia  visited  this 
country,  after  the  surrender  of  Paris  to  the 
Allies  and  the  collapse  of  Napoleon. 

Several  characteristics  of  Meredith's  craft 
reappear  throughout  this  novel.  The  racy, 
pungent  sayings  from  the  old  Buccaneer's 
"Book  of  Maxims  for  Men"  correspond  to 
those  from  the  "Pilgrim's  Scrip"  in  "The 
Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel."  The  device  of 
introducing  the  tale  with  a  cloud  of  gossip  is 
employed  in  the  opening  chapter  of  "  Diana, " 
whilst  the  cognate  use  of  ballads  is  familiar  to 
readers  of  "Chloe."  But  all  through  the 
394 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

present  novel  Meredith  uses  Dame  Gossip  (in 
whose  name  the  first  three  chapters  are 
written)  as  an  occasion  for  introducing  his 
repeated  defence  of  the  analytic,  introspective 
element  in  a  story  of  character ;  see  chapters 
xiii,  xx,  xxxv,  xxxviii,  and  the  closing  para- 
graph of  the  novel.  The  style  is  not  tainted 
at  many  points  with  Meredithese ;  the 
"sensational  shanks"  and  "vertiginous  roast 
haunch  "  are,  on  the  whole,  exceptional. 

For  a  comparative  study  of  the  novelist,  it 
may  be  observed  that  the  fine  passage  in  ch. 
xxviii  (beginning  :  "Now  to  the  Cymry  and 
to  the  pure  Kelt,  the  past  is  at  their  elbows 
continually")  corresponds  to  an  earlier  passage 
in  "One  of  Our  Conquerors"  (ch.  xi,  begin- 
ning: "The  Kelts,  as  they  are  called,  can't 
and  won't  forgive  injuries");  and  that 
Ghillon's  sole  apology  for  Lord  Fleetwood's 
rascally  conduct  ("he  had  never  been 
thrashed,"  ch.  xlvii)  echoes  the  favourite 
Meredithian  principle  enunciated  most  decis- 
ively by  Dr.  Middleton  in  "The  Egoist  "(ch. 
ix).  Some  hints  for  the  sketch  of  Gower  Wood- 
seer,  it  has  been  conjectured,  were  taken 
from  the  character  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

395 


George  Meredith 

Meredith  makes  him  the  exponent  of  a 
healthy  Open  Road  philosophy,  but  at  one 
point  (ch.  xxv)  he  describes  him  as  "a  young 
man  studying  abstract  and  adoring  surface 
nature  too  exclusively  to  be  aware  of  the 
manifestation  of  her  spirit  in  the  flesh."  This 
is  a  significant  touch.  For  Nature  in  Mere- 
dith's scheme  of  life  includes  human  nature, 
as  appears  in  the  "Earth's  Secret"  and  "The 
Thrush  in  February  "  especially. 

Pride  and  sentimentalism  are,  as  usual,  the 
forces  of  mischief  in  the  "Amazing  Marriage. '* 
The  latter  is  the  key  to  Henrietta's  romantic, 
emotional,  shallow  soul.  The  former  pre- 
dominates in  Lord  Fleetwood's  complex 
character,  which  sways  between  the  dog  and 
the  gentleman,  the  devil  and  the  cherub ;  it 
is  developed  through  his  relations  with 
women,  and  these  bring  out  its  latent  weak- 
ness, as  they  exhibit  the  secret  fibre  of 
Woodseer's  nature.  Great  wealth,  with  the 
opportunity  of  gratifying  his  whims,  fosters 
in  the  earl  an  autocratic  spirit  which  demands 
submission  to  its  will  as  the  condition  of 
experiencing  its  generosity.  This  forms  the 
cause  of  his  moral  disaster.  Accustomed  to 
396 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

luxurious  dependants  on  his  bounty,  like 
Livia,  he  misreads  Carinthia's  nobler  soul, 
and  Meredith  makes  him  an  example  of  how 
a  man's  attitude  to  women  is  bound  up  with 
his  view  of  Nature.  Between  the  brainless 
Lord  Pel  tre's  Catholic  conception  of  women  as 
"devil's  bait, "essentially  a  snare  and  hindrance 
to  man's  purity,  and  Lord  Fleetwood's  cynical 
use  or  abuse  of  the  sex  as  toys,  Gower  Wood- 
seer  presents  the  sane  Meredithian  philosophy 
of  a  frank,  healthy  attitude  of  respect  towards 
women  as  neither  Lesbias  nor  Beatrices.  Lord 
Fleetwood  has  his  sentimental  impulses,  as  is 
shown  by  his  purchase  of  the  greengrocer's 
shop  where  Carinthia  once  had  stayed,  and 
by  his  final  lapse  into  monasticism.  But 
these  are  not  necessarily  moral.  They  can  exist 
alongside  of  shiftiness,  cruelty,  and  obstinacy, 
and  indeed  it  is  his  pride  that  ultimately  ruins 
him  by  obtaining  the  ascendancy  over  his 
better  impulses. 

Livia  belongs  to  the  unpleasant  sisterhood 
of  Mrs.  Lovell  in  "  Rhoda  Fleming."  On  the 
other  hand,  Mrs.  Wythan  recalls  Lady  Dun- 
stane,  and  the  stout-hearted,  loyal,  comely 
Madge  Winch  (Gower's  "flower  among  grass- 
397 


George  Meredith 

blades"),  with  her  devotion  to  Carinthia,  forms 
one  of  the  most  attractive  figures  in  Meredith's 
series  of  minor  female  characters.  Carinthia 
herself  is  not  so  lovable  as  women  like  Diana, 
Nataly  Radnor,  andVittoria.  The  more  passive 
circumstances  of  her  marriage  offer  less  scope 
for  her  development  than  in  the  case  of  Mrs. 
Warwick.  But  Meredith  has  given  her  in 
rich  measure  the  charm  of  womanliness  and 
mettle,  of  sensitiveness  knit  to  courage,  and  of 
an  unspoiled,  calm  strength  of  character  which 
only  ripens  through  ill-treatment.  Like 
Amin ta,  this  superb  woman  is  left  by  her  lord 
to  the  world,  and  she  remains  pure  ;  although 
the  course  of  the  two  women  is  widely  differ- 
ent, their  sheen  is  untarnished  by  temptations. 
Cruelty  drives  neither  to  mawkish  pathos  or 
self-assertion.  In  Carinthia's  case  the  bitter 
discipline  is  successfully  endured  through  her 
hereditary  nerve  and  native  seriousness,  whilst 
the  "sad  and  ripe  corage"  of  her  soul  is  devel- 
oped through  motherhood  and  deep  affection 
for  her  brother  into  something  higher  than 
Griselda's  gentle  patience. 

The  psychological  interest  of  the  novel  lies 
in  its  treatment  of  the  two  leading  characters, 


The  Amazing  Marriage 

with  Henrietta  as  a  foil  to  Garinthia,  and 
Woodseer  as  a  relief  to  Lord  Fleetwood.  But 
Garinthia,  Madge,  and  Woodseer  are  the  vital 
figures  of  the  tale.  The  hero  (?)  is  exaggerated 
to  the  point  of  unreality.  Despite  his  friend- 
ships with  Gower  and  Lord  Feltre,  he  really 
is  influenced,  like  Edward  Blancove,  by  the 
tone  of  his  society  associates,  whilst  like  draws 
to  like  in  the  intercourse  of  the  Wythans  and 
Madge  with  Garinthia.  The  writer's  descrip- 
tive power  shows  no  falling  off  in  the  passages 
on  the  mountain-scenery  of  the  Black  Forest 
district  (ch.  iv-v),  and  the  prize-fight  (ch.  xvi), 
to  say  nothing  of  the  portrait  of  Charles  Dump 
(ch.  ii),  the  old  Buccaneer's  postillion,  which, 
like  the  smaller  sketches  in  "  Diana  "  (ch.  xi), 
and  "Lord  Ormont,"*  calls  up  vividly  the 
atmosphere  of  the  stage-coaching  days  in 
pre- Victorian  England. 

*  There  is  another  parallel.  Sir  Walter  Scott  was  convinced  "  that  no 
schoolmaster  whatsoever  has  existed,  without  his  having  some  private 
reserve  of  extreme  absurdity  " — an  opinion,  by  the  way,  which  is  as  reason- 
able as  his  estimate  of  journalists.  In  "Lord  Ormont"  it  looks  aa  if 
Meredith  took  the  schoolmaster  as  hero,  in  order  to  brush  aside  such 
conventional  prejudices.  Weyburn  shows  Lord  Ormont  how  to  behave, 
and,  in  his  own  way,  Woodseer,  the  son  of  a  dissenting  minister,  reads 
Lord  Fleetwood  a  proper  lesson  upon  how  gentlemen  should  conduct 
themselves  towards  women.  The  aristocrats  in  both  cases  behave,  in 
Mr.  Le  Gallienne's  phrase,  "  with  that  studied  brutality  for  which  no  one 
can  match  an  English  aristocrat." 

399 


Index 


'Adventures    of    Harry    Richmond, 

The."  28,  191/,  217.  249/.  393 
Adversity,  profit  of.  24. 109. 154.  350. 

395 

Alps,  the.  189.  201.  323 
"Amazing  Marriage,  The,"  222,  272, 

353/ 

Ambitions,  social.  27. 158, 201, 233. 350 
Apologizing,  duty  of.  345,  389/ 
Aristocracy  and  aristocrats,  17,  115/, 

223.  323.  392/,  399 
Aristotle,  13,  43, 60.  325 
Austen.  Jane.  269,  287 

Balzac.  14.  56.  313 
Bath,  249/ 
'Beauchamp's  Career."  9-10.  209/, 

270 

Beckford.  69 
Beethoven,  228,  332 
Bismarck,  284,  307 
Boiardo.  113,  382 
Boxing.  352.  370/ 
Boys.  Meredith  on,  40. 197.  269/.  306. 

351 

Brain,  woman's,  78/ 
Bravery,  not  exclusively  military,  299, 

304 

Brother  and  sister.  348. 
Browning,  58,  94.  142 
Browning,  Mrs.,  179 
Byronism,  223 

Carlyle.  2.  9-10.  29.  31.  168,  189.  227. 

270 
"Case    of  General  Ople  and    Lady 

Camper.  The."  239/ 
Ctvour.  307/ 


Celtic  character,  395 
Chateaubriand.  23 
'Chloe.  The  Tale  of."  85.  247/ 
Church,  the  English,  226 
Clergymen.  101,  205,  260,  312/ 
Coaching  days,  125,  350.  399 
Coleridge,  187 

Comic  Spirit,  the,  14/.  20/,  48 
Conceit,  73/.  78.  90, 108, 149, 176. 181. 

325 

Congreve,  259,  299 
Consequences.  34,  157/.  162.  202.  388 
Contempt.  21,  143 
Conventionality.  129,  280/,  285/.  316. 

318,  326 
Courage.  34/.  132/.  213.  285.  299.  304. 

318.384 
Cricket.  136.  306, 

Darwin,  44.  300 

'Diana  of  the  Crossways,"  55,  289f 
Dickens.  2.  4.  17,  27.  135.  152,  204. 

233,  291 

Discipline,  good  of,  24/,  109 
Don  Quixote,  81,  313 

Education.  93.  96.  347 
'Egoist.  The."  25/.  195. 198,  227.  255/ 
Egotism.  Meredith  on.  46/.  194.  205/, 

242/.  262 
Eliot.  George,  3.  14.  26.  56.  69.  94. 

188.224 

Emerson,  1-2,  31 

'Emilia  in  England,"  137/.  199,  279 
'Empty  Purse.  The."  154.  245.  329, 

392/ 

England,  invasion  of,  212.  342 
English  character,  17.  20? 


401 


Index 


"Farina."  8.  83/.  278 
Father  and  son,  193 
"Feverel.    Ibe  Ordeal  of  Richard." 

3. 10-11.  28.  43/.  193,  259 
Fiction.  Meredith's  conception  of,  19/, 

64/.2S4 

Fielding.  13,  108.  116.  204 
Forgiveness,  344.  388 
French  character.  168.  330 


Gentleman,  ideal  of.  41/.  119/,  244 

Gipsies,  203 

Goethe.  1%.  306 

Gordon,  Lady  Duff,  302/ 

Gossip.  304 

Green.  T.  H..  19.  120 

"Harrington,  Evan,"  111,  117/.  154 
Henley.  W.  E..  34.  127.  257,  328 
Heroes.  Meredith's  real.  42 
Hero-worship.  220,  338 
Horace.  284 
Hort,  Dr.  F.  J.  A..  79-80 

"Houie  on  the  Beach,  The."  27.  231/ 
Husbands,  faults  of.  123,  341/ 

Ibsen.  4,  21.  23.  39.  173 

Idealism  in  politics.  183,  284 

Illness,  effects  of.  100.  165.  200 

Illusions,  HO/ 

India.  English  in.  202 

Infatuation,  325/ 

Irish  character,  4,  307 

Italy.  Meredith  on,  139/.  173/ 

Jealousy.  263 
Johnson.  Dr..  61-62.  136 
Journalism.  173.  226 


.  275/.  292 
Laughter,  the  philosophy  of,  20/.  22, 
79,108.237.244 


London.  158/.  328/ 
'Lord  Ormont  and  his  Aminta.' 

335/ 

Love  and  Egoism.  206,  266 
Love-scenes.  79. 110.  203 
Lytton,  Bulwer.  93/.  226 


Man's  view  of  woman.  39/.  96,  176. 

180.  207.  223.  245.  281.  287,  326. 

374,  397 
Marriage,  38/,  180.  306.  337 ;  wroi* 

motives  for.  294.  337. 364/ 
Materialism,  34 
Maternity,  106,  218.  385 
Maxse.  Admiral,  211 
Mazzini,  183/ 
Melbourne.  Lord.  29I/ 
Meredith,  early  life.  4/.  121 ;  affinities. 

8/;  style.  57/.  etc. 
Meredithese,  60,  168,  271,  312,  351. 

395 
Methods,    Meredith's   literary,   SO/. 

114/,  187/.  216,  313 
'Modern  Love."  13.  50.  153/ 
Moliere,  16,  56,  297.  312.  333 
Montaigne.  13, 115 
Music,   Meredith  on.   151.  176.  184. 

185/,  228.  331/ 


Nature.  Meredith's  view  of.  31/.  43/. 

308.  324,  374.  396 
Newman.  120 
Nietzsche,  360 
Nightingales,  89,  146 
Norton,  Caroline,  291/ 


Obscurity  of  Meredith,  SO/,  271/ 
One  idea,  obsession  of,  78,  222/,  323 
'One  of  Our  Conquerors,"  182.  2<4. 

296.  309/ 
Optimism.  Meredith's,  2V 


•402 


Index 


Passion,  149,  220 

Pattison,  Mark,  58 

Peacock.  Thomas  Love,  5,  8-9,  85, 
260,  267.  313.  330/.  332,  347.  382, 
393 

Pessimism,  24 

Plutocrats.  202.  392 

Poetry,  Meredith's.  4,  13,  25,  36,  38/, 
44/,  47,  SO/,  59,  79/,  106, 108.  146, 
154.  157,  183.  225,  237.  305,  327, 
347,  351,  3%  :  see  also  "  Empty 
Purse  "  and  "  Modern  Love  " 

Politics,  208,  211/,  225,  291/ 

Prayer.  107,  111,  343 

Pride.  27/.  90.  105, 126. 132, 153, 168/. 
182. 193.  205/.  258.  318,  325,  341/. 
344, 350,  363/.  376/.  396/ 

Progress.  25/ 

Realism,  in  fiction,  34,  330 
Religion,  112,  266,  313 
Reti  ibution,  see  Consequence* 
Reviewers.  150/ 
"Rhoda  Fleming."  27.  155/.  397 
Richardson.  8,  112,  213,  258 
Richter,  Jean  Paul.  25,  56.  150 
Ridicu  e.  fear  of.  133.  242.  264/.  286. 

378/ 

Roman  Catholicism.  134.  374 
Ruskin,  65, 113. 119/.  158 

'Sandra    Belloni."    see    "Emilia    in 

England" 

Satire,  19/.  64.  233/.  329 
Schoolmasters,  347.  399 
Scott.  85.  308.  357.  399 
Sentimentalism,    30/.   HI.  147/,  153. 
205/.  223.  267.  278/,  298.  299,  340, 
350.  396/ 
Service  of  others.  46.  244.  305.  347. 

389 

Shakespeare.  15.  61-62.  187.  284.  303 
"Shaving  of  Shagpat,  The."  8,  25,  69/ 
Shelley.  347.  349 

•.113.122.241 


Spencer,  93 

Stevenson,  R.  L.,  28,  57, 169,  268,395 

Style.  Meredith's,  57,  141.  311/ 

Suburban  life,  243/ 

Suffering,  330 ;  see  also  Adversity  a«4 

Discipline 
Swinburne.  3.  5.  34.  63 

Thackeray.  2,  22.  27.  101.  134.  213, 

233,269 

Thames,  the,  351 

Thomson,  James,  5. 105, 140. 187. 272 
Tolstoy.  4,  19.  266 
Toryism,  204,  221 
Tragic  Comedians.  The."  265,  275/. 

292,305 
Trollope,  143.  266 

Unselfishness.  223.  243/.  305.  330.  34T 
Upper  Classes.  17. 115/ 

Vanity,  see  Conceit 
Venice,  225/ 
Villains.  13, 163 
•Vittoria,"  47,  171 

Wagner.  332 

Walking,  love  of,  360 

Watson.  William,  311/ 

Welsh  character.  4,  141,  395 

Whitman,  Walt.  48 

Widows.  213 

Wife,  ideal  of  a.  348 

Wine,  praixe  of,  136. 153. 168. 270. 284. 
330/,  385 

Women,  types  of.  34/;  ideal.  35/.  78/, 
253/,  284;  beauty  of.  226/.  270. 
302/;  bravery  of.  207.  213; 
intellect  of,  140.  242.  294 ;  rela- 
tions between.  143.  145.  206.  267 ; 
respect  for.  38/;  power  of.  Ill 

World,  the.  1103,  305.  314.  361 

Yachting.  227/,  259 
Young  mc«.  131.  162,  200 


403 


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